The Chicago-based Boxhead Ensemble first convened in 1996, under the direction of the Lofty Pillars' Michael Krassner, to provide the soundtrack for Dutch Harbor, a short documentary chronicling life on a remote Aleutian Island. Its core members-- Krassner, violinist Jessica Billey, Pinetop Seven bassist Ryan Hembrey, percussionist Glenn Kotche (now the drummer for Wilco), super-cellist Fred Lonberg-Holm, and ex-Souled American guitarist Scott Tuma-- created a unique fusion of country, jazz, classical, and post-rock noise, augmented by the inclusion of an itinerant band of musical cohorts. The resulting sound-- an eccentric, exquisite genre-bender-- became a kind of introspective late night standard for devotees of the beautifully cool, or coolly beautiful.
In early 2001, the core members reconvened after a hiatus (allowing for further entries on their already impressive resumes) to record Two Brothers, with the musical assistance of such luminaries as Wilco's Jeff Tweedy, Jim White and Mick Turner of the Dirty Three, and Jeff Parker of Tortoise and Isotope 217.
That Two Brothers doesn't sound a whole hell of a lot like anything else is commendable, but tricky. It's a testament to Krassner's direction that the individual players coalesce into a single sound-- a true ensemble, if you will. However, the first blush consumer who buys this disc for the trademark sound of one of its contributors will find herself spending hours in front of the speakers trying to pick apart the sounds. Unless your ear is a lot better than mine, you'll probably give up and consider that Krassner's decision to not list the players on each track merely forwards the premise of creating a true ensemble.
The thematic core here seems to be the subversion of traditional American song. This is fairly dark stuff, and I mean that quite literally. Krassner prefers the minor key, and most of the songs are performed at a dirge-like tempo, with Billey's plaintive violin and Lonberg-Holm's cello providing the meat of the melody. The mournful variation "When Johnny Comes Marching Home" ushers in a trio of affecting cuts, including the haunting 18-minute title cut, "The Half-Light" (which features Gregorio's impressive clarinet work), and the gorgeous "Requiem." A violin line that calls to mind a patch of desolate American Gothic will suddenly give way to a sampled siren. Listener loss of context may ensue.
For an album that carefully dances around the edges of the avant-garde, Two Brothers never stings you with its pretensions. Listening to this record is near effortless, and at the risk of sounding romantic and maudlin, I'll shy from using words like "transcendent," even if that is what comes to mind.
