A Closer Listen
Double bassist Caimin Gilmore is no stranger to our pages, though some may not recognize his name. He has featured on over forty recordings, but this is his debut release under his own name. As a member of Crash Ensemble, he’s been an integral part of a series of splendid albums, and on this record he is joined by Crash Ensemble director and cellist Kate Ellis, whom we’ve covered in multiple projects, stretching all the way back to Fovea Hex; and harpist Lavinia Meijer, whose album Winter made our list of The Year’s Best Winter Music only a year ago. Gilmore also plays the Yamaha DX-7, the classic keyboard with a timeless sound. After this vinyl release, we suspect that his star will be clearly visible in the evening sky.
The phrase genre-fluid appears multiple times in the liner notes, and the reference is apt. While we’ve assigned an overall category, certain segments of Gilmore’s set could fit comfortably in three others. The Irish performer accumulates energy as he experiments, allowing the music to go where it will, defying prediction while producing a sense of the new. The EP alternates between four “MVE” tracks and three “Segue” pieces, demanding to be heard as a mini-suite; and the largest shifts occur at the end. The record is accessible until it’s not, and when it veers from the mainstream, it exudes its greatest allure.
In its opening moments, “MVE I” establishes a baseline of timbre, from which it will soon wander. The harp and cello take center stage early, a generous compositional choice. The tempo is steady, with only a slight hint of dissonance, which swiftly dissipates. But as the third minute approaches, electronic flourishes appear, followed by a foreshadowing as the notes crash (reference intended) and collide. Only a few seconds pass before stability returns, but the impact has been made: now one realizes that anything can happen here. These few seconds purchase the listener’s ability to receive the attacking drone of “Segue I,” which otherwise might have jolted one from the couch.
Now when “MVE II” starts in sedate fashion, one is suspicious, no longer trusting that the music will stay in its assigned spot. Amusingly, Gilmore allows the composition to lounge in a peaceful field for a bit longer than expected, pausing the piece, then plunging back in, adding more micro-rests and finally at 2:55 giving Ellis free reign. The playful “Segue II,” only 51 seconds long, allows the double bassist to tell a short tale as the others take a brief break. Then all three performers start to wander at the same time, returning only to compare notes before heading back out again. Miraculously, the music continues to make sense. The electronic chatter returns and recedes. At the end of “MVE III,” eight dark notes sound a warning: here there be dragons.
By the abstraction of the final segue, the listener realizes how much distance has been traveled in only a short time. In the closing piece, Gilmore allows competing forces to co-exist. “MVE IV” is the natural culmination of some unconventional decisions, comfortable with genre, but not confined. (Richard Allen)
Tue Jul 29 00:01:09 GMT 2025