Six Organs of Admittance - s/t (Reissue)
(Holy Mountain)
Having never heard Six Organs of Admittance before, on a trip to New York I purchased the s/t reissue for two reasons: 1) Many other writers for Fake Jazz whom I trust included Dark Noontide on their end of the year lists and 2) it was on sale. These facts are non-trivial and important for a few reasons. First, more of a paeon to the trust I have invested in these people than a true measure of the album's worth, nonetheless, when so many people who's musical tastes so frequently intertwine with my own recommend something, I have no other choice—that is, I feel compelled by a strong social force—such that I must listen. This, of course, is no great revelation. It's the same process that we are now engaging in, but the reason I believe it pertinent to bring these facts to light is that I am sadly on a budget and can only purchase a few CDs per month; however, with that fact, even though it was on sale, it was still a risk for me to purchase the album—not to imbue this act with too much importance, but it was a leap of faith of Kierkegaardian proportions, a wager based on the tastes of these people, that, thankfully has been rolled with convenient store primity.
Six Organs of Admittance is a reissue of the 1998 debut album by Ben Chasney, which, if the sticker on the package is to be believed, contains two extra songs that were not originally included. However, the validation of my fellow Fake Jazz reviewers' opinions come not from these semi-unimportant facts, but rather obviously, from the music itself, so let us dispense with the biographic trivialities and cut straight to the heart of the matter. It took me the longest time to grasp exactly where Chasney was coming from, and it stewed in my brain, just out of reach, until the other night when it struck me epiphanic, as to where I had heard this—PG Six, and of course through him British folk, but also mixed with much more, the psychedelia of sounds that drift into the stereo range, the eastern drone of the raga, reminiscent of Fahey's acoustic work, and even a bit of Smog in the vocals and some of the more hook-y guitar lines, but the British folk really hit me—that modal drone and fleet-fingered fretwork, the pleasure in listening to this albums comes not only from the fact that all these influences are combined, but also from the skill that Chasney displays in wielding them. Under his adroit execution, these influences are not lifeless antiquities that he merely reuses, but, much in the way Fahey did, they attain a new meaning, one that shows just how vital these forms of music still can be. I know this may seem like hyperbole, and re-reading it, it appears like I am investing too much in this album, but I really, genuinely believe that there are a lot of interesting things going on, and hope a lot of people may take the same risk I did.
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