Sandro Perri has never shied away from expressing his admiration for Arthur Russell; among the highlights of the Toronto musician/producer's decade-plus-long career was a distended, 21-minute reinterpretation of Russell's already lengthy Dinosaur disco classic "Kiss Me Again". But as Perri's discography has pluralized and diversified in unexpected ways, Russell has become less of a direct musical influence than an inspirational model of following one's muse across dance, avant-garde, and roots-rock boundaries, and marking those stylistic shifts with different, highly evocative aliases. Since first establishing himself in the early 2000s as a producer of aquatic, cerebral techno under the Polmo Polpo moniker, Perri has variously indulged his interest in Nigerian juju and shantytown funk with one-album wonders Glissandro 70 and dubby disco as Dot Wiggin. But since 2007, he's been releasing albums under his own name, signaling a singer-songwriterly shift that foregrounds Perri's considerable talents as a pedal-steel guitarist and fondness for 1970s AM-radio pop, even going so far as to faithfully cover Fleetwood Mac's "Dreams" and Harry Nilsson's "Everybody's Talkin'".
Scanning the tracklist on Perri's new album, Impossible Spaces, you're first greeted with another familiar title: "Changes". But while the song that bears its name turns out not to be a version of either the David Bowie classic or the Black Sabbath piano ballad, Perri at the very least embraces the root sentiment behind that well-worn title. Though "Changes" picks up where 2007's tropically tranquil Tiny Mirrors left off, there are some immediately noticeable developments: Perri's plainspoken voice is several inches higher in the mix, and the sound has been thickened considerably by warm organ tones and more scabrous electric-guitar lines, while drummer Dan Gaucher sounds like he's itching to kick into a more robust backbeat. But then after three and a half minutes of stop-start teases, "Changes" does just that, by shifting into a glorious instrumental coda-- powered by a chugging Afro-funk groove and analog-synth starbursts-- that feels like an ecstatic, out-of-body-experience answer to the more tentative passage that preceded it.
"Changes" effectively confirms Impossible Spaces as the first Sandro Perri release to truly synthesize his myriad musical interests and place equal emphasis on rhythm, texture, and melody. With Perri backed once again by a coterie of Toronto improv-scene all stars-- who provide him with all the queasy-listening sophistication of a more inebriated Sea and Cake or a less spastic Dirty Projectors-- the album strikes an uncanny balance between sounding ambitiously executed and completely off-the-cuff; an epic of both accident and design. Perri isn't afraid to push his song lengths past the seven-minute mark (or thematically link shorter tracks into two-part suites), but Impossible Spaces never feels taxing or overwrought. Rather, extended and exceedingly patient pieces like the woodwind-powered "How Will I?" and the exquisite 10-minute beast "Wolfman" yield a sustained thrill of discovery as, with each new verse, they wind and wander into an ever-dislocating swirl of brass, flutes, electric guitar, strings, and synth drones.
Throughout it all, Perri's invariably calm tenor assumes the reassuring presence of a tour guide who won't tell you where you're going but ensures you pass through safely: He rarely sings his verse melodies in any kind of formalized cadence but always returns to a familiar chorus refrain at just the right time to help you get reoriented. In that sense, Impossible Spaces isn't simply the most accessible and immediately rewarding album to bear Sandro Perri's name, it also serves as a handy musical roadmap to its maker's sinuous creative course.
