A Closer Listen
An 1100-word description on Bandcamp doesn’t leave much to add about this sublime album, so we will try to say different things in more succinct fashion. Time Indefinite may be a guitar album, but it’s not just a guitar album; the sonic additions and idiosyncrasies make it something more. This is apparent from the very first note, a shuffling static drone that catches the listener off guard and shifts expectations into chaos. A ghostly song surfaces, as if beamed from the inside of the antique tape recorder William Tyler found in his grandfather’s office. Is this the sort of music his grandfather listened to, or is his grandfather singing to him right now? Only when the distortion calms to guitar and thunderstorm does one begin to sink into the serenity of the title, borne off in a sonic stream.
Those who know Tyler from Silver Jews and Lambchop may also be realizing the flexibility of this performer for the first time. The purity of “Concern” establishes the baseline of comfort one first expected when approaching the album, only to stray from it as soon as the tape wobble returns. Tyler calls this a “mental illness record,” but it seems as if the subject is at least partially in the artist’s rear view mirror. The frayed chorals that close the track sound like redemption. “Star of Hope” extends this holy feeling with chords that sound like a traditional hymn ~ then an actual choir. One thinks of a Christmas long ago, perhaps when one was young, or even when one’s grandparents were young, casting a spell of hiraeth.
Throughout the album, Tyler continues to dip into the time stream, further reflecting the title. The past is ever with us, while the future is a bundle of hopes and fears. “A Dream, A Flood” is awash in agitation, tossing and turning, haunted by noises within the mind and an intimidating closing loop. The listener longs for the artist to awaken, and he does, temporarily putting the ghosts to rest. When a drumbeat surfaces on “Electric Lake,” the nightmare comes rushing back, ceding space to a cold, howling wind. Where will the album, and the journey end?
As the abstraction of “Hardest Land to Harvest” meets the closing “Held,” a slight miracle unfolds. All of the preceding anxiety plunges into a deep well of peace. Midway through the track, one can hear the comforting clip-clop of horses’ hooves. As the chords switch from minor to major, Tyler sounds redeemed. Whether this peace will last is undetermined, but it’s a beautiful place to end. Banks of strings, like a procession of angels, carry the listener home. (Richard Allen)
Wed Apr 23 00:01:27 GMT 2025