Last Friday saw the release of Eli Winter’s third solo album, and the reaction has been an overwhelming wave of positivity. I’m not surprised; on my first and subsequent listens, I found myself connecting ever deeper to the emotion of the music. While Winter directs the colours on this self-titled release, the brush strokes carry the personal marks of the eleven guest musicians; Winter did this with intent. A self-titled release this far down your musical path usually comes with a bold personal statement. Yet, the beauty of this album lies in Winter’s selfless understatement, his ability to step back and present a broader, more encompassing canvas, which, over six songs, takes the listener on an intensely moving journey.
You don’t approach players like Cameron Knowler, Yasmin Williams, David Grubbs, Ryley Walker, and Tyler Damon without some clear vision or purpose. These are musicians at the top of their game, transformative players, and game changers. Whilst this may suggest the potential for a heavyweight album, it’s far from it. It’s never crowded, and audibly, Winter doesn’t sit at the centre, but as a bandleader and arranger, he exceeds all expectations. If there was ever an argument for less is more, Eli Winter would win on this alone with this transformational album.
We are gently eased in by the playful For a Chisos Bluebonnet. With Winter on acoustic, he’s back in familiar territory with Cameron Knowler on electric, while Sam Wagster’s pedal steel brings a beautiful feeling of longing. Across this and four other tracks, the pace is marked by Tyler Damon’s hallmark percussion that adds gorgeous shape and form, embellishing that feeling of movement. For me, For a Chisos Bluebonnet is a song of hope, a response to strange times – as reminded recently at a gig by William Tyler and Marisa Anderson, the US has gone through some turbulent disheartening times, not just the global pandemic but political upheaval, mass protests, tragedies and climatic catastrophes. A Chisos Bluebonnet is a lupine-type flower found in Texas that grows in what can be an unforgiving gravelly landscape, but when it blooms, it can transform the land into an oasis of vibrant colour; the perfect metaphor for this album.
To drive that thought further home, the song title of the second track, Davening in Threes, a Hebrew word referring to prayer, travels across three sublime movements. The first is like a welcome breeze; the graceful harmonic interplay between Winter, Knowler and Wagster is as mesmerising as it is refreshing. Just over two minutes in, Damon shifts percussion to announce an interlude during which the music almost fades out to allow Yasmin Williams to deliver a minute of meditational chiming notes with almost zen-like calm before the band reconvene in an edgier final stretch that should sound far busier than it does with the intricacy of the individual parts which still maintain a spatial openness.
Eli Winter is not all bliss, and the first offering that stretches into the dark reaches is No Fear; scratchy strings and improvised ecstatic bursts of energy find Ryley Walker in his element. While more shaded, No Fear is no less engrossing, as tremolo bar warbles and skittering percussion build to a tension that teeters on the very edge of the abyss. It’s a well-placed moment of darkened respite to balance the album, and it hovers there with no let-up, the finale melting into white noise – then cut, no fade.
Brain on Ice marks side two of this vinyl offering. Like a road trip across an endless plain, this one rolls along beautifully, punctuated by some gorgeous pedal steel moments, deep resonating twangs and Damon’s intuitive percussion offering a beautiful counterpoint to Knowler and Winter’s guitars.
Dayenu returns to the album’s earlier opening pace as it heads towards the final stretch. Dayenu plays out over two distinct movements, which include a beautiful eclipsing jazzy flugelhorn played by jaimie branch. The song title is another Hebrew word, which closely translates to “it would have been enough”. It’s also an upbeat Passover song about being grateful, and this again underpins that spiritual reference to this album. There is a genuine feeling of celebration at the heart of this album, one that centres around community.
The album ends on what is, for me, the album highlight. Unbecoming, a title which here, I associate with having less of a self-centric approach to life, something that seems to drive this album. With Damon’s percussion absent, it opens to deep beautiful harmonics provided by David Grubbs’ harmonium before Winter joins in on his 12-string for the first time. Whitney Johnson’s viola adds an emotional edge to this piece that’s impossible not to be touched by and later delivers some intricate bird-like patterns. Winter demonstrates remarkable restraint in the arrangement of this piece, as the angelic-like finale plays out in under a minute. The viola fades out to Liz Downing’s bowed banjo, and the most beautiful vocals ensue, delivered by Downing and Giulia Chiappetta. It’s one of the most beautiful album finales I’ve heard in a long time and is totally unexpected, but then Winter and his band have exceeded all expectations.
While these are six instrumental pieces, they are songs that carry images and scenes across an album with the celebration of community at its heart. This is Eli Winter’s A Love Supreme moment; like Coltrane’s masterpiece, this album’s most profound qualities lie in its sense of unity, transcendence and hope. It’s a landmark album and the perfect ten.