After nearly three decades of recording, pianist and composer
Harold Budd is calling it quits, explaining he has said all he wants to and does not mind disappearing. If this indeed turns out to be the case,
Avalon Sutra proves that
Budd has saved the very best for last.
Budd has walked the no man's land ground between
minimalism and
ambient music and forged his own territory. And while the former is his pedigree, he sounds like none of his peers. His pieces are composed and open-ended; they have never been based on a "system," and they are usually delicate,
impressionistic, and, more often than not, mysterious and melodic. His sense of dynamic is restrained and his economical use of silence has always been masterful, whether on early works such as
The Pavilion of Dreams, his middle-period albums such as
The Plateaux of Mirror and
The Pearl with
Brian Eno, or his more structured works like
The White Arcades with
Robin Guthrie,
By the Dawn's Early Light, and
The Room. Always, his elliptical piano sets the course, following various muses through a gauzy labyrinth and conveying great poetry, emotion, and spirituality -- without ever becoming excessive or overly sentimental. The 14 tracks on
Avalon Sutra are elegant, contemplative (not speculative), and poignant; the grace and tenderness that they impart so readily are tempered with emotional depth and dimension by notions of memory, loss, and even grief.
The three
"Arabesque" pieces here -- in reverse numerical order -- feature
Budd's piano, whispering softly and purposefully over a delicate wash of
electronics, contrasted sharply by
Jon Gibson's nearly insistent soprano saxophone lines (sopranino on
"Arabesque 3") through the center. Elsewhere,
Budd employs strings and
electronic drones on four titles, including the ever-so-brief
"It's Steeper Near the Roses," written for
David Sylvian. There are also four solo titles that are layered in a very stark painterly way with other gauzy sonic elements.
"In Little Heart"'s wispy
electronic chords provide a backdrop for
Budd's slippery skeletal melody that is accented and underscored by small chimes that seem to come from the ether. On
"A Walk in the Park With Nancy," Budd quotes liberally from the melody of
"O Come, O Come Emmanuel" on his acoustic piano as a Rhodes filtered through with unobtrusive echo adds a simple repetitive ballast.
Gibson plays a skeletal bass flute in duet on
"How Vacantly You Stare at Me," and
"Porcelain Ginger," a solo work, is one of
Budd's most engaging and elliptical compositions in ages.
"As Long As I Can Hold My Breath," the set's final cut, is given a 70-plus minute remix treatment by
electronic composer
Akira Rabelais on disc two with additional production from
Sylvian. Here, the theme from the original track is cut into a compelling, artfully rendered whole, with string loops, meandering piano that drifts in and out of the mix -- yet appears at all the right moments to add poignancy and dimension -- and a gentle wash of
noise. It is utterly hypnotic and engaging throughout its long duration.
Budd may not have been the most prolific composer or recording artist, but his consistency was remarkable and his economy of musical language always pointed to more just beyond the veil of sound. He will be missed. ~ Thom Jurek
