David Grubbs Albums (13)
'An Optimist Notes the Dusk'
Release Date 9/12/2008
Tracks 6
Label Drag City
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
We haven't heard a full-length from David Grubbs the solo artist in a little more than four years; he's spent his time issuing the odd EP here and there, appearing with Red Krayola, and making guest appearances on others recordings. An Optimist Notes the Dusk contains six tracks that clock in at a bit over 37 minutes, and the Grubbs on display here is the writer of art songs rather than the rampant free-form experimentalist, with one exception: "Not So Distant," the album's final and longest cut. For most of this set, Grubbs relies on his idiosyncratic sense of melody and accompanies himself on guitar with a drum kit on three cuts and a muted trumpet on two others. His songwriting, while it may look conventional on the surface, such as on "Gethsemani Night" which opens the set, is far from it. There are verses and choruses, but the arrangement of melody in some hummable fashion is absent here. In fact, Grubbs plays a gentle but pointillistic lyric line on his six-string, using off-kilter breaks in his tentative expressionist narrative to achieve the feeling of a skeletal tone poem whenever Nate Wooley's muted trumpet enters the mix. Open-tuned strings offer minor-key and shadowed reflections to commence "An Optimist Declines," when drummer Michael Evans enters, it feels almost like a creeping, halting duet between Sonic Youth's Thurston Moore and drummer Steve Shelley, with some straining organ and modal power chords to take it out over the course of seven minutes. "Holy Fool Musing" feels more like a proper rockist jam, with drums and guitars skittering across the middle ground and some dramatic stops and starts to give it a middle period Meat Puppets kind of feel. It's the most proper "rock song" here, and as such it's a doozy -- and yes, you can hum to it (just not loudly please). Too bad it's less than three-and-a-half minutes long. "Storm Sequence" is an instrumental where sparse percussion and tension round off angular, electric guitar lines. An organ enters near the end to give the track an elegiac feel. "Eyeglasses of Kentucky" is another unaccompanied Grubbs' vocal with his electric guitar. But this track moves in a labyrinthine way from shifting time and almost taut pauses. The set closes with the nearly 12-minute long droning ambient instrumental "Not So Distant." With its low-register organ keys, subdued feedback, freely floating noise pulsations, and abstraction carrying the day, it lets the listener know that Grubbs can still be a totally weird -- and slightly sinister -- composer, but it's a killer piece. In sum, this is a collection that does not define Grubbs in any hard and fast way, but merely showcases his particularly idiosyncratic vision, his sophistication as a composer and sound sculptor, and expands his already long reach. Let's hope it won't be another four years before we get another outing like this one. ~ Thom Jurek, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
David Grubbs and Nikos Veliotis recorded The Harmless Dust at Soma Electronic Music Studios while in the midst of a tour of the United States and Canada. So it is not a one-shot meeting, but the document of a musical relationship actively at work at the time. Released on CD, it seems it first was conceived for an LP release, as it consists of two side-long tracks with a 30-second pause between them. Both pieces are quiet drones extending to the listener an invitation to pay attention, explore, lose himself or herself, refocus, and get lost again. "The Harmless Dust, Pt. 1" (17 minutes) features Grubbs delicately placing piano chords over Veliotis' cello drone. It is a gentle piece, the tender piano smoothing out the occasionally rough edges of the cello. One is immediately reminded of Arborvitae, Grubbs' collaboration with Loren MazzaCane Connors, where he played a somewhat similar role in a few pieces. "The Harmless Dust, Pt. 2" (24 minutes) offers a different sound palette. Here, Veliotis is applying an E-Bow to the strings of the piano, the ensuing resonance conjuring up ethereal tones that mesh and interact with the chords Grubbs is holding on a Hammond organ. This piece could almost be mistaken for an electronic work by some forgotten minimalist composer of the '60s, if it were not for its unlikely warmth. It still makes for a more demanding listen than the first piece and there is no doubt that, as a whole, The Harmless Dust will appeal only to the contemplative kind. ~ François Couture, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
On A Guess at the Riddle, David Grubbs reunites with his Rickets & Scurvy collaborator Rick Moody, and once again, folk and folk-rock form the backbone of the pair's elliptically literate songs. In a way that parallels the career of his former Gastr del Sol mate Jim O'Rourke, Grubbs' solo work remains balanced between experimentalism and pop, although he doesn't always explore both sides of his music on each of his releases. Though there's nothing on A Guess at the Riddle that's as immediately ingratiating as Rickets & Scurvy's "Transom" (although the sweet "One Way Out of the Maze" comes close), on this album Grubbs clearly enjoys taking his listeners into the nooks and crannies, as well as the open spaces of his music, while remaining rooted in relatively traditional, song-oriented material. The first half of A Guess at the Riddle is so straightforward, in fact, that listeners waiting for songs like "Knight Errant" and the Mayo Thompson-penned "Magnificence as Such" to get weird will miss out on their down-to-earth loveliness. The musical simplicity of these songs provides a foil to their lyrical complexity; even the lyrics Moody didn't have a hand in writing are still extremely literary. "A Cold Apple"'s "Hilda bit a cold apple/On an equally cold/On an equally bright/Absolutely sunshot/To-be-savored Sunday morning/In North Carolina/In 1950-something" could just as easily start a short story as it begins this pretty folk-rock celebration of a long and happy marriage. However, like Rickets & Scurvy, the album's music becomes more experimental as it unfolds. The elongated musings of "The Neophyte" and the computer-generated guitar drones of "Rosie Ruiz" set the stage for "You'll Never Tame Me," a brief but odd vignette that mixes instantly recognizable click-and-pop percussion by Matmos with Grubbs' plaintive voice and piano. Nevertheless, even A Guess at the Riddle's most experimental moments, such as the serenely mysterious closing track, "Coda (Breathing)," remain largely gentle and quiet, aside from the slightly abrasive electronics (also courtesy of Matmos) that overtake "Hurricane Season." But even though the album doesn't offer -- or promise -- any overt shocks to the system, its subtle, slow-building blend of the traditional and the challenging is still remarkably effective. ~ Heather Phares, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
This second duo album by Chicago-based guitarist and all-around experimental music scene mover David Grubbs and Swedish improv sax player Mats Gustafsson may have been recorded after a Scandinavian tour, but it doesn't show the fatigue of life on the road. Wildly creative and urgent, its only downside resides in its shortness: 33 minutes. But each of these minutes is fulfilling, puzzling, and engrossing. The musicians reinvent themselves with every track. "Rendezvous Up North" is a captivating drone: tenor sax, synthesizer, harmonium, and computer are used to build a piece of sound art that will have you riveted to your seat, despite its long duration. On "Dystopian Turboprop," Gustafsson focuses on breathing sounds from inside the sax, remodeled on the computer. "Pumpkin Creek" is led by Grubbs' folk guitar motif polluted by excessive use of the volume pedal -- odd yet soothing. Henry Moore Selder provides maracas in the latter piece and some turntable growls in the next two. "Skiing + Shooting" begins with a sinister ultra-slow turntable soliloquy, eventually joined by heavy breathing through brass and digital manipulations. "Back Off" caps things off with what can only be described as a surrealistic radio play. Singers, sped-up drum machines, microtonal pitches, and a cat's meow (among many other samples) are turned into an orchestra of the bizarre and the misfit. Disturbingly funny, but not as convincing as it could have been, the track is still not enough of a reason to trash a concert hall, as pictured on the album cover. Listeners are used to expect the unexpected from Grubbs, but with Off-Road he has outdone himself -- once more. ~ François Couture, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
With no less than Rick Moody, author of The Ice Storm and Demonology, collaborating on lyrics, as well as playing by John McEntire of Tortoise and M.C. Schmidt (aka Matmos), David Grubbs has fashioned a brilliant third album of neo-folk that is as wondrous as Tortoise's audio experiments and as thick with experience as Moody's novels. Musically, Rickets and Scurvy is closest to the solo output of the other half of Gastr del Sol, Jim O'Rourke, on albums like Eureka and Insignificance. "Transom," in particular, walks the line between pop and the unusually experimental. But other sounds are present in Grubbs' post-rock -- John Fahey guitars, a levity to match Miighty Flashlight, American minimalist composers -- all in service of the repatriation of youth. Like time slipping away, Rickets and Scurvy is an album that creeps up on you, but it is as sublime as a long lost memory and equally as rewarding. ~ Charles Spano, All Music Guide
'Act Five, Scene One'
Release Date 2/10/2002
Tracks 4
Label Pony Canyon
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Filled with much creativity and unique experimental expression, David Grubbs puts together an eclectic piece of work, right at an hour in play. Act Five, Scene One is catchy, enticing, and feverishly potent with a mix of rock, pop, and a great variety of dance and soundscapes. A must-listen for those indie fans who enjoy the experience of absorbing music slowly, finding new unique and innovative sounds with each listen. With each play, there is something new to discover. Two thumbs up for Grubbs, who is not afraid to bring an array of various sounds to the table, making a genuinely bold piece of art. ~ Shawn M. Haney, All Music Guide
'Coxcomb & Friends'
Release Date 5/25/2001
Tracks 3
Label Pony Canyon
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Windy City maestro David Grubbs apparently has a raven obsession and has yet to quoth "nevermore" on the subject, as evidenced by this half-hour compact disc release from the Parisian Rectangle, a label that has released several other adventurous Grubbs project. This one involves an ensemble that includes French musicians such as the fine guitarist Noel Akchote, organist Charlie O, and even Quentin Rollet, who happens to be both the son of a French free jazz musician and the president of the label. The term "post-rock" might work for tagging this type of music, if such a thing is necessary. It is not groove or beat orientated and includes sections at such a low volume level and with such minimal activity that the casual listener might think someone had left the tape rolling in a club after the show had finished and the band was packing up. Beautiful use is made of the organ, and, needless to say, with both Grubbs and Akchote on board there is some finger guitar. Both players get into extending some very subtle sounds, so again the casual listener might think nothing is going on. The musicians before too long provide musical "ravens" in the form of sound events that might have the effect of poking a beak right between a drifting listener's eyes. ~ Eugene Chadbourne, All Music Guide
'The Spectrum Between'
Release Date 7/10/2000
Tracks 9
Label Drag City
See Album Tracklist and Review
What The Critics Say
Late in the career of Gastr del Sol, David Grubbs and Jim O'Rourke sought respite from their experimental habits. The group had spent five years deconstructing the song form. On compositions like 1996's "Our Exquisite Replica of 'Eternity'" (from Upgrade & Afterlife), they left little behind. Having reached a temporary dead end, they turned to more conventional song structures, adorning them with beautiful melodies. The resulting Camoufleur (the group's swan song) was the perfect balance of their cerebral musings and wide-eyed pop. While O'Rourke continued after the breakup of the group like a child with a new toy (furthering his pop ambitions on Eureka and Halfway to a Threeway), Grubbs followed with a series of more esoteric works. It's refreshing, then, to hear how comfortable he seems on the relaxed settings of The Spectrum Between. Though not quite as elaborate as Camoufleur, Spectrum represents a return to simple pleasures. As support, Grubbs has enlisted marquee names on the indie/improv/experimental scene. John McEntire lends his drum work for the umpteenth time. Mats Gustafsson, Daniel Carter, and Noel Akchote also guest. Spectrum offers a convincing argument for the musical inbreeding so common in Grubbs' circle. Everyone makes tasteful additions that enrich the singer's fine guitar playing and unadorned vocals. McEntire's multilayered drumming and Akchote's knotted guitar lines propel "Whirlweek." Gustafsson and Carter create new structures over Grubbs' foundation on "Stanwell Perpetual." There are enough protruding edges on Spectrum to remind the listener of Grubbs' more experimental leanings. Just when "Preface" should fade to conclusion, the most bizarre moment follows: a baboon has an argument with a haywire synth as drum cymbals try to reason with the two. "Gloriette" stretches into a wonderful section of Gustafsson's alien saxophone articulations and a duo of piercing guitar lines. Spectrum also represents a further refinement of Grubbs' peculiar lyrical language. Verses often consist of puzzling wordplay. "Scarab, seedpod, serpentine," he sings on "Two Shades of Green," "Shaded spruce, siamese." "Whirlweek"'s opening couplet might explain the methodology: "Toss the dart/Wherever it lands -- that's the center." Grubbs' approach once gave his music a feel of austerity; here, the playful and carefree delivery ensures approachability. ~ Nathan Bush, All Music Guide
What The Critics Say
Apertura means aperture, an opening -- in this case into an eternal field of sound with no beginning and no ending, just the opening and closing of an iris. This duet of David Grubbs and Mats Gustafsson is in name only; personality is veiled in the drone of sound. Grubbs' harmonium creates a shifting chordal sea of sound waves building and receding but never reaching shore; Gustafsson navigates this flux on tenor sax and fluteophone, sailing in and around Grubbs' chords with both a quickening pace and growing intensity as sounds stretch and contract around common pitches. Listening to this disc can be a cartographic challenge: What is figure and what is ground? What is saxophone and what is harmonium? As you reach for the pen to plot the horn, you hear Gustafsson inhale -- have you misjudged? Was that the horn or was he circular breathing? This recording is closer in spirit to Phill Niblock, Tony Conrad, and Morton Feldman than to Grubbs' rocker past (Squirrel Bait, Bastro,Gastr del Sol) or to Gustafsson's jazzer credentials (Gush, the AALY Trio, the Peter Brötzmann Tentet). While Feldman took inspiration in the patterns of oriental rugs, this duo seems to have found their motivation in the play of shadows on a snowfield. Recordings such as this are often dismissed with the intended pejorative drone, but the subtle interplay at work here demonstrates the depth that can exist on the surface. Apertura's warm tonality offers a wonderful starting point for the uninitiated before moving onto more aggressive drone works by Niblock or Conrad. ~ Damon Stanek, All Music Guide
