When I last (and first) heard from Washington D.C. based musician, artist, and activist Layne Garrett, it was as half of the improvisational duo The Cutest Puppy in the World on their Finfolk release. That effort explored the darker territory that exists on the periphery of consciousness, but for the most part the pieces on Lost Spaces… are far more grounded in the spiritual joys of the everyday and potential threats to undermine that joy from external forces. This should not be surprising on a release where one of the titles pays homage to one of the seminal transcendentalists (“Henry David Thoreau”), and lists “dog-licking-hand” in the instrumental credits. Even in the context of overtly political content, its personal impact is never far away (one piece’s title reads “the oil execs are building summer homes at the south pole (with your gas money)”).
Musically, the release consists of one disc of smaller pieces collected over a period of five years and a second containing an hour-long, no edits improvisation. While you’d think the two discs couldn’t be more disparate, above all else it is Garrett’s keen percussive sense that cements them together. In fact, the theme of the second disc seems to be that of the percussive and resonant possibilities of household objects. Any kid can tell you about the musical opportunities to be found in pot lids, bottles and various pieces of furniture, but on the second disc here Garrett fiddles with all of these for a whole hour and only occasionally loses the listener’s attention.
On the possibly even more surprising first disc, broken electronics, noisy loops, and inventive percussion from bells and other metal objects share the stage with dreamwalking acoustic and electric guitar lines and Garrett’s pleasantly understated vocals. Snippets of sampled speech and many of the song titles take aim at technology, modernity and their contribution to the homogenization of all aspects of life in the name of progress. At the same time, Garrett’s use, appropriation, and re-humanization of technology in his work offer a constructive counterexample to its historical misuse as an instrument of commoditization. That this refutation takes place not as shrill polemic but is presented with humor and against a background of open, welcoming sounds is a testament to his skill as a communicator. And lest you come away with the opinion that this is some stilted exercise in experimentalism, there’s some darn beautiful guitar work to be found both within sonic collages (“more, human, somehow”), and whole pieces (“the answers are all around, if you care to look”).
The discs themselves are handsomely presented in a gatefold cardboard sleeve with silk-screened artwork. This is a solid package from an artist that showcases his many faces and comes well recommended.
