I’ve become a broken record about Gregory Uhlmann lately—whether that’s because I named him one of this century’s greatest guitarists, because I lobbied to have him record a Paste Session at this year’s Big Ears Festival, or because his band SML was a Best of What’s Next pick last fall. Whatever the reason, I keep winding up in Uhlmann’s cosmos. I wouldn’t call him a rock musician or a jazz musician—or a singer-songwriter, for that matter. Though he’s among Jeff Parker’s greatest disciples, his interests have become increasingly difficult to pin down: he’s emerged as a mainstay in Perfume Genius’ live band, collaborated extensively with Hand Habits’ Meg Duffy, and developed a playing style that obliterates any strict compartmentalization.
Uhlmann’s guitar rarely sounds like a guitar. Sometimes it resembles a synthesizer, other times an upright bass. Depending on the bend, you might mistake it for the cry of a theremin. And around him are collages of piano improvisation, pitch-shifted rhythms, and vocal phrasings made out of instrumental oddities. Near-impossible string effects filter through his pedals while he streaks through unpredictable timbres, chasing rhythm without a tom or snare in sight. I’ve seen him play a few times, and the guy walks through portals on stage. His tones and textures create environments rather than arrangements; his ideas linger within you long after they’ve stopped vibrating. His new solo album, Extra Stars, is sensational.
These songs are nearly three months old, but they still feel new. I go back and forth nowadays on what makes an album “perfect,” or whether that designation is even quantifiable by letter or number anymore. I imagine the answer to “What’s a 10/10 album?” requires an assessment of replay value, innovation, technique, and interpretation. Extra Stars, from my vantage point, satisfies each of those demands several times over. Since March, I have returned to no other album as often, nor has any song consumed me quite like “Days,” the seven-minute centerpiece nestled between the equally great “Like Tea” and “Worms Eye.” The beauty of Extra Stars is obvious, though its construction remains a mystery bordering on myth. The music—especially “Lucia”—reminds me of Mulatu Astatke’s “Tezeta (Nostalgia),” a composition that feels as though a thousand years of human song have been filtered through it.
Uhlmann evokes Harold Budd, Penguin Cafe Orchestra, and Steve Reich, but those evocations are slight, as he makes his own reference through spiritual whims, clever spontaneity, and a who’s-who of his most sacred collaborators and labelmates. The Extra Stars liner notes are a roll call of ETA heroes, labelmates, and Zebulon mainstays alike—all of whom help Uhlmann redirect every logical turn. International Anthem stalwart Alabaster DePlume’s saxophone gives “Lucia” its voice. Anna Butterss and Josh Johnson’s accompaniments melt into “Bristlecone.” Synthesist Jeremiah Chiu lends dimension to “Voice Exchange,” while Tasha Viets-Vanlear’s voice is sampled like an instrument, possibly through Uhlmann’s guitar. Booker Stardrum’s percussion—which, to my ignorant ears, sounds like a drum kit made out of drinking glasses—powers the “Back Scratch” melody.
Extra Stars is littered with ecstatic miniatures of the tonal electro-acoustic variety. “Dottie” is cartoonish, with synths that literally skidaddle, while “Bristlecone” bifurcates Johnson’s saxophone into a medley of drones. The torch ballad “Pocket Snail” slowly emerges, its title anchoring the listener in image while a synth bass (in a live setting, it’s an electronic valve instrument played by Will Miller) saunters into Uhlmann’s processed slide lines. DePlume’s halfway-ghost woodwind buzzes like a mosquito in “Lucia,” as Uhlmann finds a countermelody through clanging metal, flicking a plastic tube, pressing his foot against an effects pedal, or all of the above. The guitar tone in “Imprint” is barely louder than a whisper, but synths hum and dart over it like a comet. “Sugar Water” sounds like an accompaniment for a Nintendo game level, and “View Above” presents a habitat of found sounds beneath ringing bells that dissolve into a drone exhaling like a gospel chorus.
The ballroom of Extra Stars gets its serenade from “Days,” a powerful, textural, multi-tracked triumph. Uhlmann’s guitar is tuned low enough to mimic a harp’s glissando, while a bleary mix of delay and reverb allows the top line—made by either a synth or a recorder—to drift without twisting. Touches of glitch sneak into the mix, and a full orchestral arrangement seems to unfurl beneath it, as if a big band is breathing out in the next room. “How does one say, ‘This song makes me think of all the universes at once and also my imminent mortality and the joy that comes before it’?” I texted Associate Editor Casey. She wrote back, “I mean probably exactly like that.”
If you’ve been an English or creative writing major at any point since 1977, you’ve likely encountered Laura Gilpin’s “The Two-headed Calf.” I think about the poem when I hear this Gregory Uhlmann album—how, when the calf stares into the sky, “there are twice as many stars as usual.” So many of his songs involve looping melodies through his pedalboard like ribbons. It takes multiple listens to tease out the parts, all of which are patterned by his remarkable harmonic depth, and I’m still uncovering new details two months later. I don’t know what to fully make of Uhlmann’s work just yet, as he lovingly—and expertly—coheres the old with the new. But, like the night sky, the pageantry of Extra Stars carries with it many infinities. [International Anthem]
Matt Mitchell is the editor of Paste. They live in Los Angeles.
