Some albums ask you to lean in. 1682 invitations you to settle in. Shawn Lane and Richard Bennett’s new collaboration doesn’t shout to your consideration — it earns it gently, with six songs that really feel timeless but stubbornly human, rooted within the type of people storytelling that by no means actually goes out of fashion.
The title observe, “1682,” units the tone instantly. A spirit from centuries in the past drifts unseen by the current day, observing the small moments we rush previous. It’s an uncommon lyrical premise for a Bluegrass venture, however Lane sells it with a voice that carries each heat and a ghostly edge. His supply doesn’t push — it floats, letting every phrase cling like mist. Bennett’s guitar work lays the muse, giving the music a heartbeat that’s regular however by no means insistent. Grayson Lane’s mandolin traces flutter across the edges like distant reminiscences you’re not fairly prepared to call.
“Mountains and Miles” follows and lifts the temper with a way of wanderlust. The interaction between the 2 guitarists — plus the delicate pulse of Jacob McFadyen’s bass — provides the observe a ahead momentum, like a well-worn street winding by backcountry hills. It’s the type of music that performs greatest with the home windows down and nowhere specific to be.
The place the file really stakes its declare, although, is in its temper shifts. “Avenue Mild” dials the power means down, buying and selling busy choosing for piano chords that ring out like echoes on an empty road. Lane’s vocal is extra bare right here — each syllable carries weight, each pause feels prefer it’s holding a secret. There’s percussion, too, however so sparse you marvel when you imagined it.
“Gray Wind” and “1000 Miles” maintain the temper intact, exploring distance and reminiscence by preparations that prize subtlety over flash. It’s a testomony to Lane and Bennett’s shared imaginative and prescient that even at its quietest, this file by no means drifts into background music. There’s intention stitched into each relaxation, each muted string squeak. It feels actual as a result of it’s.
Then there’s “Take Me House.” The concept of overlaying Phil Collins in an acoustic Bluegrass type sounds prefer it shouldn’t work — but right here it feels just like the album’s thesis assertion. Stripped of its ‘80s bombast, the music turns into one thing intimate, virtually weary. When Lane sings “Take, take me house,” it’s not an epic anthem — it’s a whisper from somebody who’s been wandering far too lengthy.
In a world stuffed with albums that need to be your subsequent playlist filler, 1682 stands aside by doing virtually nothing besides what it must do. It breathes, it waits, it lingers. There’s no rush right here, no chase for a radio hit. Simply two grasp musicians trusting that in the event that they play from the center, somebody on the market will hear them — possibly even a spirit from 1682.
Mindy McCall
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