Reid Willis - Reliquary

A Closer Listen

Reliquary proposes the idea of an album as a “living archive,” both tomb and shrine: a sonic snapshot of the artist when the final masters are created.  In the old days, months or even years might pass between recording and distribution; in the new era, both can occur the same day.

Reid Willis‘ advantage is that his music is genre fluid. As a pianist, he uses the form of modern composition to write electronic tracks, which lends them a certain gravitas.  His work is a perfect match for Max Cooper’s Mesh imprint, which is always eager to experiment.

The album itself is friendly, beginning with its first word: “Welcome.”  Drones establish a base pattern before receding to ambience, from which electronic patterns emerge.  This all happens in the very first minute and change, imitating what one might imagine as the score to a spaceship’s liftoff, which occurs at 2:01 in a comforting tempo of drums and synth.  The breakdown includes something that sounds like a scissor before the track comes full circle, like that same ship returning to Earth.

Not even a split second can be found between the first track and the next; the track percolate and bubble, but the album is designed to flow.  A wordless choir emerges, amplifying the drama.  But then there’s a short pause, demonstrating that the artist is more concerned with where the beats sound best than in constructing club bangers.  When the strings emerge, one thinks of the roles reversed, a chamber concert with electronic enhancement.  “The Gnawing” honors its title with slightly dissonant sounds, like a tuning, only to be rescued by a small cadre of 80 bpm drums.

After all this, Willis flips the script, giving listeners the club cut they desire in “Underpunished.” Remembering that this is a reliquary, one wonders if this is the tomb or the shrine, the last of its kind or the start of something new.  Either way, this rapid-fire cut is sure to set dance floors afire. It’s almost as if the artist is telling his listeners, “I can do this, but I prefer to branch out.”  On the next track, the beats disappear again, while the choir returns.

Eyes and ears now turn to the eleven-minute “I Am a Forest Fire,” which seems both declaration and conundrum; a forest fire can be either destructive or rejuvenating, as it clears the way for new growth.  It seems that this is what Willis is doing here, as the track grows busier and busier, while remaining benign.  A new mystery arrives in the closing second, as the cassette click from the start of the set is repeated, suggesting that “Mutual Fawn” is not only opener, but overture.  This would make “An Endless Path Ascending” more coda than finale, suggesting that the process is ongoing. As Reliquary begins to fade, a new creation is already forming.  (Richard Allen)