Rob Burger: The Grid
Western Vinyl
To some albums, we bring high expectations, in part because of familiarity with the artist's previous work; to others with whom we're less acquainted, we bring few. I'll admit Rob Burger was an unknown quantity to me before The Grid, only learning after acquiring it of his storied career as a keyboardist and composer whose background includes film soundtracks and involvement in albums by John Zorn, Laurie Anderson, and Iron & Wine. All of which is a rather long-winded way of saying how pleasantly surprised I was by the release, a fourteen-track collection that could be taken for a track-by-track inventory of Burger's musical tastes. I can't speak to his intentions, but one could come away from the release thinking he conceived it, at least in part, as an homage to particular eras and artists, Eno, Cluster, and Kraftwerk among them.
It's very much a Burger project: besides composing (sharing a composer credit with Anderson on one song), arranging, and producing, the Portland-based multi-instrumentalist performs much of the material, though cellist Teddy Rankin-Parker, clarinetist Doug Wieselman, and violist Eyvind Kang make key contributions, too. On the set, Burger's credited with keyboards, guitars, percussion, programming, and fujara, a bass overtone fipple flute of central Slovakian origin.
The transition from one track to the next can be jarring when the styles on offer are so different. Presented with the soothing opener “Alternate Star,” for example, and its delicate wedding of piano, acoustic guitar, and cello, one could be excused for expecting the rest of The Grid might follow in its neo-classical footsteps. But the subsequent track, “Harmonious Gathering” shifts gears entirely, Burger now using early drum machine beats and synthesizers for a breezy, Autobahn-styled road trip redolent of the ‘70s electronic period associated with Kraftwerk, Neu!, and Harmonia. In addition, the pretty reverie “Walk the Plank” has Cluster written all over it, the title a presumed nod to Conny Plank, a key associate of the group, while the insistently clanging keyboard riff powering “Roadside Deal” is straight out of Eno's “Golden Hours” (not the only time the ambient legend's invoked, “Talk to Me” being at least one other conspicuous instance).
Some of the more meditative ambient-styled tracks emphasize Burger's darker side, such as the subtly macabre “Ghost on a Wire” and mournful “Pink Lenses”; in similar manner, Kang's viola intensifies the somnambulant radiance of “Love Light.” It's Laurie Anderson's appearance on “Souls of Winter,” however, that is the album's certifiable masterstroke; her distinctive delivery is of course instantly recognizable, even if it has naturally aged when heard next to 1981's “O Superman,” still her best known recording. Featuring her on a single song was smart, too: it makes the song special, whereas hearing her voice on a number of songs would have diluted its impact. The elegant, subtly buoyant backdrop Burger fashioned for her is perfect, too, in the way it complements her voice without competing with it for attention. “Souls of Winter” is the album highlight, understandably, but it's hardly the only thing arguing in its favour. Burger's found ways to distinguish most of the other tracks, too, even if in certain cases it's by way of drawing attention to the sounds of earlier eras.July 2019