From the etheric woods of hidden worlds to the grasslands of planetary souls, the sounds of Jay Woodward beckon and summon the longings of near forgotten beings. Soundscapes bristle as they ebb and flow the imagination of a cosmic gypsy wondering. His sophomore release "Good Grief" reveals a veteran songsmith confident in his stride, vast swirling clouds condensing into scalar peaks with the help of Cody Fontes masterful percussive performance. Content to ride on the shoulders of a pulsing monolith tiger, the elegant conjunction of vibrating distorted strings run parallel to solemn acoustic guitars coalescing into a dream world set on tape. Beautiful harmonies anguish over the travelling guitar lines below, suddenly hissing and shirking a man's avatar, becoming the fuzz between radio channels as if only for an instant. As fast as the mind moves from distance to distance we are returned to the root system flourishing thanks to the sensitive cello work of Christian Dupree.
One locks eyes with the knowing words as Woodward sings, "To live and breathe among the sinners and the purest few in a systematic brotherhood of liberty abuse, I'm from the old school and it suits me just as well to watch the passion I have set in motion." A sense of arresting hypnosis concerts itself as if from the vein of bygone eras of timeless music and tragic-ends ala Leadbelly, Nick Drake, and Elliott Smith. What we hear with Woodward is a world understood by only the most delicate seers, where plagal melodies consonate with castaway tradition as if the moon eternal hovering over the gate of the sea. It is rare for such vision to never betray itself as we see with Woodward on "Good Grief", calmly and patiently he stirs until sinking his paws into our immaterial flesh at precisely the right moment, leaving us ever in askance.
Perhaps he is aware of being present at his own haunting, from his single Blue Sky Blue he writes, "every word I see in front of this angry scene, is taking a piece of me and bringing the dark clouds within reach." Delivered in his stylish sombre timbre the apparition of a man beseeching providence to end the race we all tie in the end becomes clear. His tone is that of deliverance, seeking resolution to manifold personal hells by floating alongside the atmospheres, one with the vapour passing through petty thieves and libertines.
We can be sure that Woodward is a special breed of acoustician-poet, never satisfied to relish too long under discontinuous lights, instead painting aural pictures with the darkness that he bends and shapes concurrently with the streams of his spirit consciousness. From his final track Sparrow's Song we hear his chilling silhouette, "When you coming home, coming home to rest, the curtains are drawn and the world stands a mess, don't ask me how I know about the sparrows song, the poet is dead, but the words carry on." Do yourself a favour and listen to Jay Woodward, a true diamond in the rough.
Brahma Blue - WAIL Music