Moonwood
Aubade (Arachnidiscs)

Before beginning this review, a small vocabulary lesson. Aubade (pronounced oh-BAWD) is defined by my trusty ITP Nelson dictionary as “A song or instrumental composition concerning or evoking daybreak”. The alternate definition is “A poem or song of or about lovers separating at dawn”.

Unsurprisingly, Aubade, the most recent release from Moonwood—a.k.a. the Urbane Decay’s Jakob Rehlinger—evokes all kinds of imagery, including daybreak and separation. This album is a sweetly melancholic trip, just quirky enough to be accessible to those listeners not familiar with the meandering psych-folk aesthetic. Three songs break the 11-minute mark, but they ebb and flow so organically that they almost don’t seem long enough.

The appropriately named “Morning Mist” begins tentatively with some fingerstyle guitar, cymbal fills, and a delicate Boards Of Canada-esque piano line before switching gears, aided by a harmonium and up-tempo percussion. “Babel” starts off insistently, pushing towards a thick mélange of percussion, slide guitar, and toned-down keyboard riffs before easing into a sparse bass-led passage coupled with some charmingly not-quite-in-key oohing.

“Wires and Chains” is surprisingly joyful in contrast to other songs on the album. Starting delicately with chimes, it quickly segues into a back-porch jam featuring more chorused oohs, handclaps, and lush droning. The following song, “Bell Ceremony” features a strange sample of metal scraping metal, leaving the listener with an eerie sense of foreboding. The no-nonsense strumming and uncertain notes are decidedly off-kilter, creating a formless, directionless track that ends abruptly. It will make you feel weird all over and leave you hanging—much like every relationship I’ve ever had.

The last song, “Chovihanis”, appropriately named after a class of Roma mystics, is an amorphous soundscape pairing flamenco guitar with mewling-animal noises. It’s not until the eight-minute mark that a distinct groove develops, led by a tripping bass line that makes a unique counterpoint to the layers of dissonant guitar chords, percussion, and unstable singing. The song eventually peters out, as if the musicians are unconcernedly drifting off into the sunset.

Though it has a decidedly improvised feel at times, Aubade comes across as a remarkably focused and exceedingly mellow album that could be the soundtrack for nearly anything—a long daylight walk, a harsh chemical comedown, new love, or even a heavy-hearted morning separation.

Download This: “Wires and Chains”