Instrumental Folk
It's an ambitious solo artist who attempts an entirely instrumental album, especially when the key instrument is an acoustic guitar, as there are often only so many acoustic songs one can bear before being reminded of Ned Flanders serenading a Christian summer camp. Fortunately, Leo Abrahams is a guitarist of prodigious talent and at the tender age of 27 he has released an understated album that attempts to hold our attention with rhythms from around the world and a guitar style honed from the study of a thousand years of musical history.
Opening numbers 'Masquerade' and 'Come The Morning' engage the listener through the careful utilisation of medieval scales, arabian-beats and riotous hand-claps that posit Abrahams to be a travelling court jester at a Henry VIII birthday bash. There is more than a hint of Cat Stevens' early material in Abrahams' delicate arpeggios and practised strumming patterns, creating an ethereal sensibility to his playing that occasionally transports the listener away from the mundanity of day-to-day life, to that special heaven that only music, not words can truly describe. 'From Here' and 'Spring Snow's' building riffs and subtle percussion tread a thin line between quietly beautiful and easily ignorable, and merge so easily into 'Blind' that they may as well be all one song, or at least a Spinal Tap-esque trilogy. ('Lick My Love Pump', anyone?!)
Herein lies the danger with any instrumental album; unless the artist constantly varies the sound throughout, then the entire composition runs the risk of sounding like one very long, albeit impressive jam session. The alternative option is to create a concept album where the songs are all interrelated and complement each other with their similarities, something Canadian post-rock stalwarts Explosions In The Sky do to dazzling effects. Yet without the wah-wah pedals, fuzz boxes and screaming pick slides that create EITS's uniquely brilliant sound, Abrahams is left with eleven songs that do not exactly constitute a concept album, yet bear a little too much similarity too one another to truly pick a favourite. One can hardly imagine there to be many 'shout-outs' or requests at his gigs, as without lyrics, the unimaginative titles must surely be arbitrary reminders to his band as to what key to play in.
This being said, 'The Grape And The Grain' is certainly not without its charm; there is no doubting Abrahams' deft skill with his beloved guitar and the melodious tranquility that permeates the album is ideal for any Sunday morning lie-in. There is always the danger, however, of the listener falling into a catatonic trance and emerging chanting, “Kumbayah...”