No one’s being forthright about his identity, but apparently Et Ret, as he’s known on this release, has a history as an experienced folk artist, but, with Gasworks, is looking for a new start in a new direction. His folk background is evident on Gasworks, though the disc taps into realms that diverge from typical folk fashion, though the album retains a rustic, earthy vibe throughout. Like the old Dead adage opines, Et Ret wanders often, but is rarely lost, and while there’s little material here which stakes a claim to ground unexplored, Gasworks at least treads paths well-worn for a reason.
Though he’s similar in atmosphere to some of the folk-based improvisation that’s being played these days, Et Ret keeps things much more tidy, and while Gasworks isn’t so regimented as to feel stiff, it’s also not so free-wheeling as to ever feel loosed from its moorings. Songs are built on a simple motif, a melodic passage that is augmented over the course of the track by sympathetic strings, swaying repetitively in an increasingly lush collection of aural foliage. And while the album remains hushed and restrained, Gasworks is unquestionably a music of open spaces, a personal music that hints at a greater expanse. Tracks like “Apokalyptein” are warmly evocative of a distinct vein of western Americana, suggested further by the silhouette-on-sky artwork that accompanies the disc. It can all be rather beautiful, in a gentle and comfortable manner, though a maudlin streak definitely runs through Et Ret’s pathos.
It’s hard to deny the allure of Et Ret’s hypnotic swoon, though to these ears it’s perhaps a bit to smooth, too cleanly constructed, in a way that tinges its honestly cultivated emotion in a mawkish hue. This music is best when it engages most organically the atmospheres it aims to inhabit, when the fingerprints of the creator fade from view. Gasworks rarely reaches this state, and while the music is skillfully assembled, losing oneself in the mix doesn’t happen often enough for the album to fulfill its promise.
