Concert: Glenn Jones, Arborea and Pairdown
"The best guitarist you never heard of." —The Boston Globe
Click here for a recent NPR feature on Glenn Jones
Since 1989, Glenn Jones has led Boston’s “avant -garage” instrumental rock band, Cul de Sac, whose musical adventures are documented on nine albums to date, including a soundtrack for cult-director Roger Corman, and collaborations with guitarist John Fahey and former Can vocalist Damo Suzuki. A 30-plus-year devotee of the so-called “Takoma school,” Jones has written extensively on the steel-string guitar’s leading lights: John Fahey, with whom he was friends for nearly 25 years, and Robbie Basho, who befriended Jones during the five years before his untimely death in 1986.
Jones has also performed with Peter Lang, Steffen Basho-Junghans, Cian Nugent, James Blackshaw, Paul Metzger, Peter Walker, Meg Baird, Harris Newman, Sean Smith, MV + EE, Dredd Foole, Tom Carter, and many others.
Maine folk duo Arborea creates timeless music, haunted by deep shadows. Their songs are bathed in shimmering harmonics, spectral slide, and positively spooky banjo. The songs also evoke a kind of mysterious quality, in which you are never quite sure what the songs are about, but they seem to touch a place in your soul that instinctively understands.
Pairdown is the collaboration of Pittsburgh-based singer-guitarists David Leicht and Raymond Morin. The two met and began performing together in 2005. Their eponymous EP, released on Sort Of Records in 2006, is a collection of six songs blending the duo’s inter-dependent acoustic guitar work with Leicht’s inventive writing. The opening title, “Nonlinear Lions” was coined in a passage of Mike Davis’ book, Ecology Of Fear, concerning the link between environmental fluctuations and outbreaks of “deviant” animal behavior. The song portrays exurban domestic bliss interrupted by emergent, predatory wilderness. A series of uneasy images are feathered with bits of satire, from the intro: “they love the taste of your lotion / ending your motion…” to dadaesque refrain, chanted in a bluesy, two-part harmony: “in this future, you’re furniture!”