Buck Curran - Illuminations [Review]
About Buck Curran
Buck Curran is no stranger to TSMM pages and playlists. Originally from Michigan, he's a nomadic folk artist with serious guitar chops, as well as multi-instrumentalist, singer-songwriter, luthier, painter and poet, with a DIY-minded approach to the music industry. He first came to prominence nearer the start of the millennium as one half of lazy, hazy alt-folksters Arborea - a collaborative project with Shanti Deschaine, and, although the group are no more, their music still stands the test of time. Check them out.
After Arborea's parting of the ways, he set off alone and has flitted between recording singer-songwriter, instrumental guitar and experimental steel-string pioneer tributes, and even fitted in a vintage cinematic sci-fi synth odyssey for good measure. Oh yeah, he then married an Italian lady and has ended up in Bergamo, Italy, where he maintains an impressive release schedule, nourishes his artistic soul, and runs his own Obsolete Records imprint.
Review
His new album Illuminations sees another stylistic change, with Curran in particularly chilled, whimsical mood. The album takes its inspiration from the fascinating life and works of Arthur Rimbaud, and in particular Illuminations, his last major work before he effectively retired from poetry at the age of twenty; and as poetry took precedence over music early on in Curran's career, it's a fitting inspiration for this suite of spontaneous, first-take improvisations, recorded in 2022.
Remarkably, and fittingly, this album happened as much by chance as design. During the recording of a demanding track from The Long Distance album, where Curran couldn't quite nail the rhythm and pattern, he would take a breather, and as an antidote to the frustration start to improvise. Luckily the tape was still running, and Illuminations was born. The album opener 'Mystique' is the most intentional cut I imagine, as his wife reads a translated version of Rimbaud's Mystic poem over Curran's formless, softly picked acoustic bed, once again making me wonder why ambient poetry is not more of a thing.
Buck Curran - Mystique
It's not the only time family help out: Adele, this time inadvertently, chatting to Curran on 'Enfance', which also includes his then two-year-old toddler's early thoughts on her father's music. A few creaks and household noises that wouldn't have made it to tape whilst the recording light for a fully formed release was on also make the final cut and give the album a domestic charm and intimacy.
As for the various tracks: are there any singles apart from 'Mystique'? No. And that's just fine, because there is a vibe, and fifteen very short tracks that sit together splendidly, providing a meandering acoustic guitar suite that will suit all sorts of inactivity, and rare moments of quiet. Whilst the music lacks the drama of Rimbaud, perhaps the real connection is that improvisation of this quality can only arise from years of formal discipline. Those seemingly stray notes that suddenly coalesce into a pleasing pattern, Americana inflections happily rubbing shoulders with micro-minimalism, echoes of British folk still reverberating through the decades, only to find themselves in Bergamo, if only for a second or two; all that and more. Rimbaud is the inspiration, but only a musician with years of practice and creative trial and error under his belt could make those connections, and then spontaneously mould them into a cohesive track. But perhaps most strikingly, to me anyway, is that these musical moments were born from moments of frustration, and although I've never met him, it's surely a testament to Curran's character.
If you're in acoustic guitar mood then perhaps check out what Michael Scott Dawson is doing.
Playlist Companion
Find Curran in the Slow Balearic Playlist for once.
