There is something almost topographical about Daniel Rossen's music. It has the overwhelming grandeur of something viewed from above-- perhaps from the top of a tall tree or an airplane or very possibly, if you're into that sort of thing, heaven-- but also the painstaking, labyrinthine detail of a map. His first solo EP, Silent Hour/Golden Mile, is a brief but majestic song cycle full of fingerpicked notes that babble like tributaries, echoing piano chords that cut through silence like rocks rippling the surface of a pond, and in a few cases, explosive mountains of sound that jut up out of nowhere. It occasionally sounds like George Harrison or Harry Nilsson or even, in fleeting and not unwelcome moments, the Eagles, but it also sounds personal, like one person's recollections of the music he grew up with knocked slightly askew by memory's jostling. So yes, a map, but if you had to draw it, it would end up looking like one of those on the inside cover of a fantasy novel or maybe an old edition of Robinson Crusoe: a detailed rendering of an imagined, serenely unpeopled place.
Rossen is one-fourth of Grizzly Bear and one-half of Department of Eagles. "A lot of this music comes from exiling myself," he said in a recent interview, and considering the year he had in 2009, it's understandable why the guy would need to get away from it all. After the success of Grizzly Bear's acclaimed record Veckatimest, a group that began with humble aspirations suddenly found itself catapulted onto Billboard's Top 10 and magazine covers, and vexed by sensationalist reports of intra-band conflict. The guys could weather it (they're recording Veckatimest's follow-up as we speak), but in the meantime writing and recording Silent Hour/Golden Mile was Rossen's way of keeping his fingers busy and his mind at ease during the band's downtime. It seems to have worked. "Up On High", the opener, has the bright feel of someone pushing off from the world to find the clarity that has eluded him. "In this big empty room," he exhales over a gently crescendoing chord progression, "Finally feel free."
Expansive yet graceful in its moments of restraint, Silent Hour/Golden Mile shows off Rossen's skill as an arranger. Tracks like "Golden Mile" (on which he's joined by Dr. Dog drummer Eric Slick) and "Silent Song" (which is streaked with the signal-flare wails of Scott Hirsch's lap steel) feel full and lush but never cluttered; the emotion of the songs is free to bob unobstructed to the surface. "I'll dig until I bleed/ Drink until I rot," he hollers soulfully on "Silent Song", before appealing for salvation, "Lord, I know it's wrong/ So help me out." Drowning out his pleas, "Silent Song" builds to an instrumental bridge that finds Rossen doing Rossen: imbuing architectural grandeur with gentle naturalism. "Silent Song" towers, but even in its boldest moments it trembles and rustles precariously, as if a breeze much stronger than the one blowing through could topple the whole thing.
Rossen's guitar playing has unmistakable personality. You could probably count on one hand the number of indie rock guitarists you can say this about right now, but a lot of listeners will recognize these as Daniel Rossen songs before he even opens his mouth. The style that you can hear Rossen developing from the earliest Department of Eagles recordings up through Veckitmest is a distinct, improbably fluid blend of folk, jazz, rock, and even the occasional jolt of punk attitude (one of his finest moments with Grizzly Bear, "While You Wait for the Others", hinges upon his subtly sneering distortion). And here, he busts out some of his most impressive tricks. Positioned at what feels like the exact geodetic north of the song cycle, "Return to Form"'s summit recalls Veckatimest opener "Southern Point" as it explodes into a jazzy, Beatles-esque cascade of notes that glimmer with the naturalistic sorcery of the northern lights. As with Grizzly Bear, Rossen's lyrics rarely approach the poeticism of his guitar playing, but he's able to suggest more with his unique tones and phrasing than most singers can. When words fail, Rossen's jazz hands shred.
Though Veckati-mania was replete with plenty of overzealous YouTube commenters proclaiming Brooklyn's fab four to be better than the Beatles, it doesn't feel too hyperbolic to say that Rossen is gradually, quietly earning his George Harrison stripes. Though there's nary a "Hare Krishna" in sight, Silent Hour/Golden Mile still has the candid honesty of a person grappling with faith and trying to reconcile his place in the universe. The terrific closing track, "Golden Mile", is the closest he's yet mustered to an "All Things Must Pass", and though he doesn't quite stumble upon lasting enlightenment, momentary peace will do. Rossen brings to this EP the meticulous craftsmanship we've come to expect from his work, but in Silent Hour he's created something rare: a rendering of isolation that feels sincere but never maudlin. Returning from the solitary hike of "Golden Mile", he concludes with an observation that will still ring true in a busier world: "There is bliss in this mess."
