Rating: 7/10
Some circles have already labelled him “this year’s Sufjan Stevens.” Maybe Falling Air sells him a bit short, but Brendon Anderegg is still an apprentice whereas Stevens has the matured tricks of a wizard. But, as trends become trends, maybe some day we will be looking forward to the new Anderegg instead.
The legacy of Miles Davis, one of jazz’s most groundbreaking musicians, lives on in the perpetuation of two myths: the one that states Miles plays it simple, and the one that points out he plays it simple and with few notes. For those who still believe in that shit, I suggest they carefully listen to “One For Daddy-O” - where Miles is accompanied by ‘Cannonball’ Adderley, Art Blakey and Hank and Sam Jones - and try to reproduce the trumpet parts as elegantly as he plays them.
So, it’s time to drop another myth that may have popped in your head: however soothing and outstanding Falling Air may sound, it is entirely replicable at home - unlike Mile Davis. Headphone listening will greatly heighten awareness of its glow, but then again most lo-fi folkies were born to live in the intimacy of the sound field created when your ears are covered with that device.
Brendon Anderegg is a singer/songwriter definitely devoted to the acid-folk and low-key electronics, and thus the unplugging of his record playing feels like a disturbingly scorched nightmare. It’s truly amazing how songs like “They’re Still Here” build a new world into which the listener can’t help but be drawn. Therefore, switching all these glowing elements off makes the experience of these record’s latter symptoms all the more painful.
Anderegg’s is music bound to be listened in the closure of a dark, silent bedroom. When the first blips emerge, although they are very welcome, one bluntly feels that form and function somehow lose touch with one another. The musician lacks some sense of literacy and consistency when putting out this handful of songs, although this record contains some of his boldest moves yet recorded.
The funniest and most challenging part arises when trying to distinguish the sound of the acoustic guitar from that of the banjo - both included here - and then when attempting to tell the difference between a piano and an organ, or an accordion, a violin, a computer and all sorts of minimalist instruments. “My Baby Bird” packs a lot into its 4 minutes of whispered annoyance...
This was the year when the press sublimated Patrick Wolf as being an outstanding kid with heaps and heaps of talent, shortly after releasing a record that is merely above average; I will not do the same thing with Brendon Anderegg. He has a lot of potential, and Falling Air possesses a haunting drone that surprisingly amuses, but there is a long way to go before ascending Olympus.
http://www.lostatsea.net/review.phtml?id=1724308254313885bb2a61
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