Folk music has always been close to the earth. By that, I mean that it has always been a carrier of the stories and lives of everyday people, it has been the perfect conduit to celebrate the turning of the year and the various activities associated with each of its seasons. It has, in short, been a means of keeping us connected with primal, pagan, pre-Christian times, even in this age where such considerations seem lost and abandoned.
Dean Carter, via his mellifluous guitar instrumentals, eleven in all, has put together a musical calendar, one that takes us through the seasons, one complete turning of his Wheel of the Year and ascribes musical flavors to each waypoint, each station of the ancient sun via his musical creations.
“Standstill—Sol Invictus,” a long and lovingly woven piece, starts us off at that point of the year when the sun, having died, is reborn as the days start getting longer and the new year (the old, moon-drenched and seasonally driven one, not the modern fabrication of convenience that we now use) starts its journey anew.
“Snowdrop” captures the buoyancy of spring’s arrival, “Bel’s Fires” the tranquility of May, and the more contemplative “Carnival of Souls” invites our past ancestors to dine with us in celebration—a celebration, incidentally, that newer religions and faceless marketing gurus have turned into a time of boogiemen and profit, children’s games, and sales pitches. A shadow of its former self.
Dean Carter gives us a gorgeous album; one built on beautiful and bountiful guitar work and emotive and imaginative musical themes. Meditative, marvelous…magical.
