Zugunruhe by Pefkin
Zugunruhe is the German word given to a restlessness displayed by migratory birds.
Released on Sound & Fury records of Australia.
Tracklist
| 1. | Shells | 6:26 |
| 2. | Counting the Leaves That Tremble at Dawn | 5:21 |
| 3. | Third Part | 4:01 |
| 4. | Ancient Wings from the Printing Stone | 4:12 |
| 5. | Zugunruhe | 9:36 |
| 6. | Remember the Words | 4:17 |
Credits
released January 1, 2009
Recorded at Glo-Spot by John Cavanagh.
Review by Chad Parsons on Foxy Digitalis:
With Pefkin's latest release I'd like to work backwards because of the simple guts shown on the closing track of "Zugunruhe."
Remember the Words starts with some simple (and, I must say, very lonely) plucks, and somehow the addition of vocals makes it lonelier still. But then, a high organ joins the fold and transforms it into something else, a kind of solo strength gazing out the window. There is loneliness still, but I would not call it sadness, and that seems to be a dominant theme of the album.
Now, back to the beginning.
Imagine coming home and finding out that all of your music gear was lost in a deep green woods. Should this happen to you, chances are that Pefkin, a psyche-folk siren, is the one who lured them out there. The album seems to almost be linear, moving from the aural reverie of Shells all the way to the aforementioned closing tune. I like the continuity of it. Unlike many albums where the lack of structure seems faceless or difficult to imagine as coming from a human, "Zugunruhe" is clearly the work of careful hands. It's a noticeably developed sound.
The aptly titled third track, Third Part plays out like a Japanese western. A twangy guitar strums chords of dusty cherry trees long past blossoming, and by the time you've made it through the song you feel as if you've walked in one end of town and out the other. No one was there. It then dissolves into Ancient Wings of the Printing Stone, a bubbling tour over jagged spans that eventually touches down into the title track of the album, which is a worthy title track indeed. It puts you in the center, a strong synthesis of each individual noise, and an excellent summation of the distance that's been covered. There are birds and banshees, tumbleweeds and radio towers, and if I had to guess, I'd say that any fence you come across is electrified.
Now, back to the end.
I've already talked about the closing song but now there's a little more context. What I like so much about it is that Pefkin was willing to attach a simple song, with actual singing, to a wonderfully disjointed album. Maybe that's why it feels so human, like how Woody Allen is always willing to break character if it will help tug on your heart a little bit more. I like admissions of guilt, taking the blame for being alive. Such willingness is difficult to find. 8/1
Recorded at Glo-Spot by John Cavanagh.
Review by Chad Parsons on Foxy Digitalis:
With Pefkin's latest release I'd like to work backwards because of the simple guts shown on the closing track of "Zugunruhe."
Remember the Words starts with some simple (and, I must say, very lonely) plucks, and somehow the addition of vocals makes it lonelier still. But then, a high organ joins the fold and transforms it into something else, a kind of solo strength gazing out the window. There is loneliness still, but I would not call it sadness, and that seems to be a dominant theme of the album.
Now, back to the beginning.
Imagine coming home and finding out that all of your music gear was lost in a deep green woods. Should this happen to you, chances are that Pefkin, a psyche-folk siren, is the one who lured them out there. The album seems to almost be linear, moving from the aural reverie of Shells all the way to the aforementioned closing tune. I like the continuity of it. Unlike many albums where the lack of structure seems faceless or difficult to imagine as coming from a human, "Zugunruhe" is clearly the work of careful hands. It's a noticeably developed sound.
The aptly titled third track, Third Part plays out like a Japanese western. A twangy guitar strums chords of dusty cherry trees long past blossoming, and by the time you've made it through the song you feel as if you've walked in one end of town and out the other. No one was there. It then dissolves into Ancient Wings of the Printing Stone, a bubbling tour over jagged spans that eventually touches down into the title track of the album, which is a worthy title track indeed. It puts you in the center, a strong synthesis of each individual noise, and an excellent summation of the distance that's been covered. There are birds and banshees, tumbleweeds and radio towers, and if I had to guess, I'd say that any fence you come across is electrified.
Now, back to the end.
I've already talked about the closing song but now there's a little more context. What I like so much about it is that Pefkin was willing to attach a simple song, with actual singing, to a wonderfully disjointed album. Maybe that's why it feels so human, like how Woody Allen is always willing to break character if it will help tug on your heart a little bit more. I like admissions of guilt, taking the blame for being alive. Such willingness is difficult to find. 8/1
License
All rights reserved.
Pefkin is the alter ego of Gayle Brogan, creator of slowly-unfolding, ritualistic hymnals that draw heavily on the landscape and natural world.
She is also a member of Burd Ellen, Greenshank and Meadowsilver.