Primitive guitar thrillingly taken widescreen and cosmic. – Backseat Mafia

It’s difficult to make a personal imprint on solo instrumental music but Brighton-based, Welsh acoustic guitarist Gwenifer Raymond continues to make an impression with every step she takes. Opening up in 2018 with her ’You Never Were Much Of A Dancer’ debut, she introduced her steely, blues-pining tones to the world. Come 2020 she’d broadened her palate with the more darkened folky soundscapes in the thrilling avant-primitive concoction that was ‘Strange Lights Over Garth Mountain’. Now comes her third full release ‘Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark’ on her new label We Are Busy Bodies and the signs of another steady climb in the Raymond’s trajectory.

In interviews elsewhere around her new release she’s revealed her intention was to create a new sonic range within her music but without losing connection with the centrifugal force of her dynamic finger-picking guitar expressionism. Opener Banjo Players of Aleph One shows her embracing this fine balance with relish. It’s a tune which thrums around a tingling drone as a mournful banjo melody plucks then grabs you with resonant guitar tones, ringing with Jansch gravitas. Brief but mysterious the piece shimmers within its back-story of the second-hand banjo Raymond plays, the man who once strummed it and the widow who passed it on.

With an academic background in Astro-physics, an appetite for science fiction and a Fortean Times-like curiosity, it’s no surprise that such influences have come further to the surface here. Cosmology and the otherworld, notions of infinity and spiritual connection simmer throughout ‘Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark’ giving the album its hypnotic, otherworldly aura. Jack Parsons Blues emerges from Raymond’s ongoing fascinations. Named after US rocket scientist from the 1940’s John Whiteside (Jack) Parsons (space travel visionary, fervent occultist and one time L. Ron Hubbard compardre), who died in a mysterious lab explosion, the tune is wired with propulsive tension. Anchored by a booming bass line, the chord shards and guitar patterns build to tidal proportions with a post rock intensity. There’s a flamenco focused drama in Raymond’s playing plus that thrilling abandon where she lets the notes burr and buzz free, allowing the guitar to sing its own tune.

The title track is another transformative epic of shifting moods and tempos, with a similar ambition to William Tyler’s horizon sweeping music. Beginning with a slow Orleans bluesy sway, the eerie call of a lonely slide guitar and anticipation-stretching bends show Raymond’s fine grasp of the cinematic. As the tune accelerates her mesmeric weave of thumb, strum and fluttering fingers signal urgency before calmer passages are allowed to plateau. Here Raymond times the spaces between her phrases with an uncanny empathy then flies out for a thrilling frantic finale of speed woven guitar-picking. In contrast the more restive closing track One Day You’ll Lie Here But Everything Will Have Changed is warmly gentle, all harmonics and a sighing electric guitar. A tune which chimes with resolve and maybe hope, Raymond introduces the electric guitar again to float with the melody and build reverberating layers, in a coda of Marisa Anderson-like suspension.

Although on this new album it’s clear that Raymond’s instrumental gaze is widening, she always keeps her American Primitive references close by, weaving them into her new songs with integrity and invention. The rockabilly, ragtime workout Cattywomp, echoes her debut recordings but still leaps out at you with a quirky playfulness. On Champion Ivy she lets the melody ring out regally then takes you for untamed hoedown on the edge of expert control but within her own definitive comfort zone. The way Raymond effortlessly melds such eclectic influences certainly stands out more than ever on this latest album. A track like Bonfire Of The Billionaires forges a shadowy madrigal with a stomping, steely Fahey twanger and crackles with genuine anger.

Yes, for all the virtuosity and flare, Raymond’s music on ‘Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark’ really counts because of its emotional clout. Perhaps that comes through most on the pieces which draw on her connections to Wales and that country’s earthy folklore. Dreams of Rhiannon’s Birds, a gentle paean to the Welsh goddess, is a tune which circles around itself hypnotically. Lit with tingling musical details, a crying slide guitar call and a deep droning harmonium anchor, it drifts as any lullaby should. Bliws Afon Taf (Taff River Blues) swells around meandering guitar melodies and the most succulent hook. Raymond remains buoyant and playful for so long then dives into more turbulent territory, an insistent repeated guitar shred powering the excitement.

Perhaps Bleak Night In Rabbits Wood carries the most potency as Raymond drags up some childhood memories of spooky discoveries in the undergrowth. There’s a tinge of seventies Brit folk in the monotone bassline and descending patterns but the song soon burrows down through some mazey twists and turns. Forceful bent notes plummet into a section of waltzing pirouettes while Arabic scales and raga tones elevate the mystery. Raymond doesn’t hold anything back here, packing the soundscape breathlessly until, by the close, we’re plunged into an orchestral swirl of guitar sonics.

On the evidence of ‘Last Night I Heard the Dog Star Bark’ no-one can say that Gwenifer Raymond is a Stuckist. Her music has been evolving subtly with each album, expanding into the same areas of compositional and inspirational complexity as Marisa Anderson or Loren Connors. This latest, significant release confirms she’s much more than a brilliant acoustic guitarist, she a maker of sounds that travel and you go with her.

Get your copy of ‘Last Night I Heard The Dog Star Bark‘ by Gwenifer Raymond from your local record store or direct from We Are Busy Bodies HERE

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