Jeffrey Silverstein :: Theme Western Sky Music

Western skies extend uninterrupted in every direction, and so, too, does Jeffrey Silverstein’s spaghetti western psychedelia. Here, in ruminative speech-song and drifting instrumentals, the Portland’s space cowboy explores the cosmos with Rose City twang-maestro Barry Walker Jr. on pedal steel, Akron Family’s Dana Buoy on drums and Alex Chapman on electric bass.

The best way into this lingering dreamscape is through the instrumental tracks, which give an unfiltered view into the way that these musicians support and feed off each other. For instance, “(Theme From) Western Sky Music” where shimmering swathes of tone envelope pedal steel arcs, a minimalist cadence of kit drums and woodblock keeping them. There’s something epic about the way the sound fills the frame, like a spectacular sunset that fills your entire field of vision. You can hear a bit of Rose City Band’s easygoing, weirdo country vibe in this and other cuts, courtesy of Walker, but Western Sky Music is more spiritual and open-ended, less tethered to backyard country pleasures. It’s reinforced by a fragment of spoken word meditation guidance, as a voice urges “Let’s take a moment to let go, relax and heal our whole being.”

The song-structured cuts are only slightly more earthbound. “Sunny Jean,” jangles loosely, little jet trails of pedal steel sound blasting off from the melody. Silverstein is half singing, half talking in this unhurried tribute to his wife, the phrases syncopated and imbued with slight tonal variation, but never blooming fully into melody. The verses have a dream-like quality, like something you hear and try to remember just before you wake up, and they add to the mysterious charm of Silverstein’s music.

A couple of guests make notable contributions, William Tyler in “Chet,” Silverstein’s homage to the nimble-fingered country innovator Chet Atkins. Just off his own full-band rock record, Tyler joins in the disc’s most viscerally propulsive track, three guitars shimmering above a clattering sticks and snare beat. “Birdsong in the Canopy,” by contrast, is the album’s most diffuse and lovely songs, all long shape shifting tones and looping dream sequences. The Arizona singer songwriter Karima Walker threads echo-shrouded benedictions through this vibrating universe, her voice utterly natural, lovely and unforced. | j kelly

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