Drone. Distortion. Delay. Tremolo. Reverb. All are key features in the music of post-rock bands we've come to know and love; in fact, you'd be hard pressed to find an instrumental act which doesn't make good use of at least one of those effects. It’s such a breath of fresh air, then, to hear the unassuming acoustic sounds of Balmorhea in their eponymous debut album. They were formed as recently as summer 2006, and yet, despite being named after a diminutive city in their homeland of Texas, this release is one which should deservedly make a huge impact.
Balmorhea are worlds apart from the likes of the myriad of other Texan instrumental bands out there - they may be from Austin and lack vocals, but therein ends the similarities with Explosions in the Sky. Acoustic guitars and piano feature in varying measures, sometimes together, frequently not. "A Circumnavigation" is a captivating collaboration between guitars and banjo, the latter featured again in "And I Can Hear the Soft Rustling of My Blood (As if Snow Were Sliding Down the Mountains)" in a duet with the piano. "In The Rowan" even features a typewriter seemingly trying to keep pace with the piano (and succeeding, for the most part). However – and I’m not ashamed in admitting this (although perhaps I should be) – I had played this album from start to finish several times before I twigged that two ostensibly vital components of any band – bass and drums – did not feature in Balmorhea’s music at all. And you know what? I didn’t miss them in the slightest! Balmorhea is certainly none the worse by their absence, that’s for sure.
At times, Balmorhea’s music is not unlike what a collaboration between Sumner McKane and Max Richter might sound like (listen to "Baleen Morning" and you'll see what I mean), or perhaps Six Parts Seven getting together with Library Tapes ("En Route" being a prime example). Balmorhea even calls to mind the sprawling atmospherics of Set Fire To Flames, making similar use of field recordings but placing less emphasis on them than their Canadian counterparts. Comparisons aside, there is an aura about Balmorhea which suggests a willingness to demonstrate some originality, to break away from the confines of a genre which is in real danger of stagnation. To quote arguably the greatest philosopher of our time (Johnny Depp), “it’s good to be different.”
It could be said that the overall production quality of this album is a bit patchy; perhaps this is deliberately so. Fuzzy acoustic guitars abound, but, unlike the awkward misbowing of the violin in Yndi Halda’s “Illuminate My Heart, My Darling!” (one of my favourite songs of all time it may be, but I cannot help but wince when I hear that cadence), I don’t regard this as a fault as such. It just gives the music a more rustic feel. Balmorhea do make emotive, imagery-steeped music, it must be said – perhaps I’m hallucinating after overdosing on caffeine, perhaps it’s due to having watched one Western film too many (“The Three Burials of Melquiades Estrada” might just have tipped me over the edge), but when I listen to Balmorhea I have visions of people sitting round a campfire in the Texan desert, strumming guitars, with nothing more than cacti for company.
If you haven’t quite picked up the take-home message from this review yet, then I’ll save you the hassle of trying to fathom it out: go and buy this album. Persuade all your family and friends to do the same, or, if you have no friends and your family have disowned you, buy yourself multiple copies. Record labels take note - you’ll soon find out why Balmorhea are one of most exciting discoveries of 2007.
-Richard White