Julian Lynch first hit our radar last year with a few promising tracks on the first Underwater Peoples compilation, followed by Orange You Glad, his debut release (and first non-CDR full-length) for the Brooklyn-based experimental label Olde English Spelling Bee. The record introduced us to his folksy collage-pop aesthetic, but while often beautiful, its low fidelity often felt more like a hindrance than a benefit, and the more traditional song structures could feel slight or meandering. His newest album, Mare, is another story. An earthy, eclectic record that manages to be challenging, but also remarkably patient, it's the sound of the formerly Ridgewood, NJ-based songwriter quietly coming into his own.
Lynch once worked for Smithsonian Folkways Recordings, and now studies ethnomusicology at the University of Wisconsin-Madison, and you can hear those diverse influences at work on Mare: The music is recorded on humble equipment, is rough around the edges, and pulls liberally from lots of different genres. There are traces of drone, noise, and African percussion, for instance, alongside more traditional pop and rock elements. His instrumentation is unusual and eclectic, incorporating clarinet, watery guitar lines, shuffling maracas, and delicate drum work. But where bedroom pop tends to be somber and even unsettling at times, Lynch's music is very much at ease with itself. And it sounds very organic. Tracks are experimental in composition but ultimately echo the mood of folk or country-- music that feels like it should be played outdoors.
There's a kicked-back, front-porch quality to the album-- songs are sedate and unfurl slowly. Lynch sings but obscures his vocals until they act as a loose guide rather than a specifc blueprint. So Mare is primarily about atmosphere, and in that sense it's very much like an ambient record. And as with good ambient, it soothes without drifting off into the distance. This balance is key to the record's success, and Lynch acheives it with a smart rhythmic touch. "Interlude" is airy and gentle but it has propulsion and direction. Under its woozy synths and indistinct vocal coos is a funky guitar line that keeps it moving forward.
The album is also sneakily complex. You can just let it wash over you-- and it's good at that-- but the closer attention you pay, the more detail emerges. "Ruth, My Sister" is a pleasant wisp on first pass, but more spins show a dynamic arrangement that builds tension an inch at a time. And the sequencing is excellent: The record picks up steam around the seventh track, "Ears", which is bright and celebratory and just the right amount of spark so things don't become sleepy. Lynch is also smart to save some of his most straightforward material for the end of the record as a nice payoff. "Travelers" is probably the poppiest thing here-- just a simple vocal hook and melodic bassline-- but totally effective within the larger scheme.
One of the most likable things about Mare is that, for how druggy and narcotized it sounds, it doesn't comes across as sad or tuned-out. A lot of artists use these kinds of woozy textures to enhance a detached viewpoint, but ultimately this is colorful and engaged music. It's relaxed and inviting, and if the idea of summer music wasn't so generally overstated then I'd say it's also very season-appropriate. More centrally, though, it's a major creative step forward for Lynch, whose absorbing ambient pop sounds prove how refreshing this kind of subtlety can be. That's an easy sentiment to embrace.
