Glenn Kimpton
Ruminate!
Independent
26 July 2023
Glenn Kimpton has quietly carved out a niche as one of the most inventive, intuitive and accomplished guitarists in the business. His style sits somewhere between the English folk and the American pastoral traditions, but the execution draws on the musical language of experimentalism and free improvisation. Exploratory, long-form acoustic experiments are a feature of his catalogue: last year’s Serious Glimmers, for example, was a single long improvisation split into six fluid movements. He also has a penchant for DIY recording techniques and an ear for the accidental music that exists around us.
Ruminate! was recorded outdoors, in woodland just outside Bristol, and the ambient sounds – birdsong, tree rustle, the artificial thunder of a nearby railway line – are more than just background noise. They form part of the internal weave of the record, the visible threads that combine to provide a hint of dramatic heft or narrative thread to a variety of music that could otherwise run the risk of being ephemeral. That’s not to say that there’s anything lightweight or trifling about Kimpton’s playing. He is a skilled stylist adept at capturing mood and has a brilliant ear for the timing of a musical phrase. Indeed one of the most notable things about the six improvisations that make up Ruminate! is the way time seems to be stretched or condensed seemingly at will. Opener From This Distance is meditative and slightly eerie, full of deliberate strums that are both exploratory and welcoming. Acarophobia (the fear of being infested by tiny invertebrates, just in case you were wondering) is stranger and more experimental: a series of warped, bent notes build into a weird web that is as rewarding as it is uncomfortable.
Water’s Edge has a fittingly bubbling, rippling texture, like the musical equivalent of the play of light on a stream or pool. It is a perfect showcase for Kimpton’s fine fingerwork, interrupted by the brief alien roar of a passing train. Hook Jaw is a slower, more thoughtful piece. Kimpton’s abstract approach to melody and mysterious tone combine to form something that is similar to Ben Chasny’s more interpretive work. The miniature Ribbet has a sweet simplicity that blends in perfectly with the outdoor setting.
The set finishes with And From This Angle, another meditative, peaceful improvisation that returns us to the themes of the opening track. It is full of space or implied space; there are gaps and half-pauses where light seems to filter through. In fact, the whole cycle seems to glimmer with the kind of hushed light that filters through trees. It is beautiful, even slightly intoxicating, and is another assured instalment in Glenn Kimpton’s increasingly impressive catalogue.