Mark Wingfield: Tales From the Dreaming City
MoonJune Records
Two things in particular distinguish Tales From the Dreaming City, British artist Mark Wingfield's formal follow-up to 2015's Proof of Light: the electric guitarist's singular sound, and the satisfying balance struck between composition and improvisation in the ten performances. He's again joined by fretless bassist Yaron Stavi and drummer Asaf Sirkis (plus Belgian keyboardist Dominique Vantomme, who contributes synthesizer to four tracks), both of who played on Proof of Light and more recently (along with touch guitarist Markus Reuter) on The Stone House. The major difference between the releases couldn't be more fundamental: in contrast to the new release's marriage of compositional form and improvisation, The Stone House is an all-improvised affair. Certainly there's much to be said for that 2017 set, but to these ears Wingfield's music is at its most satisfying when improvisation's tied to formal compositional structure.
Recurring melodic themes and chord progressions give the tracks on Tales From The Dreaming City distinct personality and help render the album memorable. Whereas the opening “The Fifth Window,” for example, largely roars with furious conviction, the track that follows, “I Wonder How Many Miles I've Fallen,” is executed at a slower tempo, exudes subtle airs of mystery and mysticism, and feels more meditative by comparison. “The Way to Hemingford Grey” and “A Wind Blows Down Turnpike Lane” similarly reflect how critical an impact the compositional dimension has on the recording. In both cases, grandiose, almost prog-like themes lay dramatic ground for thoughtful guitar and (in the former) synthesizer solos that effectively complement the mood in play. Rapid switchbacks between charging sequences and quieter passages set “Ten Mile Bank” apart from the others, while the set-ending “The Green-Faced Timekeepers” does much the same in working konakol singing by Sirkis into its entrancing design. “Sunlight Cafe” and “Looking Back at the Amber Lit House,” on the other hand, make strong cases for lyricism when the players use arresting sets of chord progressions as bases on which to build.
Regardless of the differences between settings, Wingfield's voice remains instantly recognizable. Though he acknowledges the influence of six-string innovators like Hendrix, McLaughlin, Holdsworth, Torn, Rypdal, and Fripp, it's telling that long ago he shifted his attention to non-guitar figures, among them Coltrane, Garbarek, Miles, and Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan. At this stage in his evolution as a player, Wingfield's distinctive voice embodies a sensibility informed by those who preceded him but isn't demarcated by them. His playing's marked by slurs, vibrato, wails, and elastically bent pitches; while other guitarists opt for a sharp-edged attack where single notes are delineated with precision, Wingfield softens the edges around his, allowing them to bleed into one another. Fashioning his attack to the material in play, he'll play fluidly in one context, whereas flurries of notes might be unleashed in another; in his own words, “if the music calls for a sudden build up of energy or intensity, I might play a fast series of notes to build up to that intensity.” He's no shrinking violet either: Wingfield plays with authority throughout, and in Stavi and Sirkis has a powerhouse rhythm section capable of meeting him at that high level.
Like any artist's music, Wingfield's is a conglomeration of styles, one that in his case draws from jazz, rock, and prog, but whatever you call Tales From the Dreaming City, be wary of calling it fusion, a label rife with associations that in his estimation misses the mark in capturing what he's doing. Still, if his statement that the rhythms, chord progressions, and structures in his music are unlike those heard in fusion is debatable, a strong argument can be made to support his contention that the pieces on the new release are more openly melodic than ones in standard fusion.July 2018