Experimental guitarist Nathan Salsburg’s first solo acoustic guitar record since 2018’s Third is all about the silence between the notes, to the point where it feels like a duo album of guitar playing and sonic space. Playing out as one continuous track spanning forty minutes, Ipsa Corpora was formed over time, a conduit of sorts for Nathan’s feelings of anger and despair, but also a form of meditation, and thus feels like a major work by this guitarist.
At the thirteen-minute mark, the deliberately played lower strings switch after a pause into a lightweight ditty played on the higher strings, shifting the mood of the music into something bucolic and carefree. And there is the real strength of this extended piece of music; we can be taken from the depths of thought to the whimsy of a summer’s day in the time it takes to shrug.
There is also the middle ground; at around sixteen minutes or so, the playing has a light texture, but there is shade hidden between the notes, the subtlest of yearnings that is beautiful to behold and adds yet another dimension to this sound. Of course, the nuances can only be achieved by a player in total control of his instrument, and Nathan is an accomplished guitarist with an exceptional sounding instrument. The mastering too, by Chuck Johnson, is characteristically clean and clear.
Although this is obviously a deeply personal project for Nathan, it is also an exciting release in the wider picture; a solo acoustic guitar album that challenges the norms of the genre, resulting in a work that is new. A similar response can be felt by Steve Gunn’s recent Music for Writers, another album that feels deeply connected to the artist as they are at this exact time in their career.
And it is this authenticity, for want of a better word, that is ever-present when listening to Ipsa Corpora. Each refrain is played out deliberately, sometimes stopping dead (see around twenty-six minutes) before a prolonged chord probes our senses. As much as this all sounds very serious, and it is, there is still the music to be enjoyed, and it is beautiful music, played with consummate skill.
Ipsa Corpora really is quite an achievement. It takes a musician of high creativity and technical ability to record a continuous piece of playing for nigh on forty minutes, equally impressive to keep the listener’s concentration and interest throughout the time. The music here is quietly emotional, deep and pensive. We experience gentle sadness that switches suddenly into light joyfulness, like the sun emerging through clouds. We hear playful frolicking with a hint of melancholy between the notes: Those elongated pauses are as loaded as any played notes, perhaps defining the record. This is a profound piece of work; I’ll probably be playing it forever.
Ipsa Corpora is out now on No Quarter