A Closer Listen
One of the most fascinating performers we’ve been privileged to cover, Gwenifer Raymond has a PhD in astrophysics, operates as a video game and A.I. programmer, and is fascinated with sci-fi and folk horror. In particular, she is drawn to the mystical aspects of speculative fiction, which proposes a world beneath this world, a subsystem that might explain all of the insanity and instability, an underground map akin to the ley lines of Umberto Eco. Falling in love with fingerpicking, she has played with some of the greats and is well on her way to becoming one of the greats herself, founding a style called Welsh Primitive that blends all of the above aspects and more. Try to imagine John Fahey crossed with Folklore Tapes, and one may be ready to enter these sonic woods.
While many may associate Primitive styles solely with traditional music, Raymond opens up the doors. The very first track, “Banjo Players of Aleph One,” references a classic sci-fi shooter game. Portions of the piece suggest the Deep South, in particular the deep, rock-hued ending. The Jack Parsons of “Jack Parsons Blues” is likely the famous rocket scientist and Thelemite occultist, and until there’s a movie about his life, this mystical tribute will have to do. Plumbing the possible depths of the man’s soul, Raymond seeks to exhume as well as explore.
At first, the artist sounds like a full band playing a dark yet boisterous funeral beneath a cloudy sky. And so it is a slight surprise to hear the brighter “Champion Ivy,” which is likely to get feet stomping on the upcoming tour. There’s great concentration here, but also great joy, especially when Raymond speeds her already swift playing, refusing to slow down until midway into the album, when she displays the nuances of her intricate playing. Every note is perfect, whether plucked or strummed, and for a while, one feels the heat of the summer desert sun, extremely bright, nary a shadow to be found. This will change on the back half.
The title track is loping and mysterious, graced with evocative twangs that extend the notes and allow them to decay. The dynamic contrast is evident, even within the single instrument. Tiny breaks – a scale here, a glissando there – create a delicious tension, while the tempo shifts a surprising number of times without derailing the rapture a single iota. The track is like a microcosm of an entire concert, a showpiece of confidence and verve.
Dancing is permitted, and “Cattywomp” is the invitation. The word derives from “cattywampus,” meaning askew, diagonal, crooked, going in the wrong direction. Raymond gleefully discards any such directions to forge her own path. But the track title may also be seen as a commentary on an askew world, in which nothing is where it is supposed to be and human behaviour is even more unpredictable than ever. On “Bleak Night in Rabbit’s Wood,” Raymond nearly busts a string, then recovers. The fantastical world she creates somehow seems to make more sense than the “real” one. The intensity is so high that one fears if she stops playing, both worlds will end. Thankfully she ends on a soft prophecy: “One Day You Will Lie Here But Everything Will Have Changed.” In the midst of all the horror, one finds a vinyl string of hope. (Richard Allen)
Wed Aug 27 00:01:30 GMT 2025