Named after a Lithuanian snake spirit that supposedly brings families health and prosperity, Polish guitarist Raphael Rogiński’s hypnotic new album is filled with the heat and light of summer. His materials are the eastern European folk forms he first heard in the forests and lakes of the Poland-Lithuania borders during childhood summer holidays, and the memories formed there (he writes dreamily of floating at night in a boat with his brother in the liner notes).
Created with Warsaw musician/producer Piotr Zabrodzki, and mastered by Oren Ambarchi collaborator Joe Talia, these 12 tracks show how an electric guitar, amped up for reverb and resonance, can evoke a sense of wonder at natural history (many of the track titles are the Lithuanian names of flowers). Still, you can hear echoes of Rogiński’s first instrument, his grandmother’s Uzbek kamānche (a three-stringed lyre), in the gorgeous Paprastasis Amalas (which translates as Common Mistletoe) and the gnarlier Pelkinis Gailis (Marsh Rosemary), his raw, finger-picked style lingering longingly over the minor-key laments.
Other genres phosphoresce throughout. In Čiobrelis (Thyme) are shimmers of the Durutti Column and the early solo works of Ben Watt; softer moments of Pat Metheny’s jazz in Smiltyninis Šlamutis (Dwarf Everlast) and post-punk gothic edges in Raudonoji Gegūnė (Marsh Orchid). Indrė Jurgelevičiūte of folk group Merope plays the kanklės, a Lithuanian plucked string instrument closely related to the zither, on several tracks, and sings beautifully on Šilinis Viržis (Common Heather), her voice conjuring up old shoegaze 7ins and psych-folk reissues.
There’s a searching curiosity in this music found in Rogiński’s other projects (such as a group, Shofar, that explores traditional Hassidic mystical songs, and his solo reworkings of John Coltrane compositions). For now, though, this album suits our wildly flowering season as its days slowly shorten, reminding us of the fullness of life and its innate melancholy.
Also out this month
West of Roan’s Queen of Eyes (Spinster) is an excellent, intimate album by Annie Schermer and Channing Showalter of folk collective Doran. It was recorded in supremely folky fashion on an ear trumpet condenser microphone in a solar-powered cabin, on an island off Washington state. Their voices together are stately, powerful and moving, including on a great version of the traditional Let No Man Steal Your Thyme. Irish-French artist Kevin Fowley has made a subtle album of 15th-century French lullabies, À Feu Doux (Basin Rock), blending the songs with jazz-dappled arrangements and tape manipulations. His vocal style is a little drowsy at times, but suits its subject well. The Wilderness Yet’s Westlin Winds (self-released), an album of Scots and northern English traditional harmony singing, sees fiddler Rowan Piggott and guitarist/flautist Philippe Barnes ditching their instruments to join Rosie Hodgson in a collection of homely, rousing a cappellas.
