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Written by Kevin Renick Tuesday, 01 August 2006 04:49

So gracefully do Frayne's compositions ebb and flow, it's almost as if they mirror the contours of the roads and rolling hillsides that Frayne undoubtedly draws significant inspiration from. This is truly sublime traveling music.

 

God, I love this stuff. No reason to hedge, no reason to make you wade through a lengthy analysis to discern my opinion of Lanterna's new CD Desert Ocean. I just flat-out love this style of evocative instrumental rock, and Lanterna—essentially the solo project of Champaign, Ill., resident Henry Frayne—is pretty much as good as it gets.

Let's start with the packaging, a series of striking, sepia-toned natural landscapes bordered in silver. The song titles are simple and descriptive, also: "Luminous," "Summer Break," "Fog," "Riverside," etc. Such is also true of most new age albums, you say? Perhaps, but where new age is generally bland and wallpapery, the music on Lanterna's fifth album is texturally rich, emotive, and lullingly beautiful. There aren't many circumstances I can think of which wouldn't be enhanced by playing this organically pure ambient rock.

"Luminous" pairs an insistent bass & drums part with gently clanging guitar chords and comes up with a perfect soundtrack for a scenic drive. Both "Venture" and "Summer Break" feature strong drumming (by Eric Gebow), making it clear that this is a rock album, not merely an ambient one. The former is one of two tracks to feature gently unobtrusive wordless vocals; the latter showcases Frayne's beautifully restrained guitar playing. So gracefully do Frayne's compositions ebb and flow, it's almost as if they mirror the contours of the roads and rolling hillsides that Frayne undoubtedly draws significant inspiration from. This is truly sublime traveling music.

"Fog" offers a series of repetitive guitar arpeggios with just a dash of a moody undertow, while album highlight "48th and 8th" increases the moodiness via shimmering, near Cocteau Twins-style guitar chords and feathery-soft percussion. The "quality meter" remains utterly consistent, tune after lilting tune. While "Riverside" is probably the most new age-y piece, with its sparse, languid guitar, there's a loping grace to the following "Cross Country" (where acoustic guitar replaces electric) that demonstrates the diversity of Lanterna's approach, as well as the music's soundtrack potential (on either a personal or actual filmic level). "Messina" brings the hour-long proceedings to a close with a melancholy but still soothing flourish, perhaps the sun setting on one's individual journey.

When it comes to this style of scenery-laden instrumental music, predictable genre headings such as "ambient" or "post rock" do the sound a disservice, and could keep prospective new listeners away. There is something so pure, so emotionally pliant about Lanterna's sound, that it deserves a more suitable categorization. How about road music for journeys either external or internal, with an undercurrent of reassurance that the path you're on is exactly the right one? For that's the impression Lanterna's warm, bracing sound leaves you with, as it gently beckons you forward toward the beauty and bright memories that lie just around the next turn of the road.