There have always been hints of the symphonic in Chad Kettering’s work, but in the past it has typically slipped quietly into the background, maybe swelling a bit here and there in emphasis but mostly performing a supporting role. On his new release, Pathways, the symphonic pulls a chair right down front, takes the lead quite commandingly, and proceeds to launch its listeners on a big, cinematic, dramatic and beautiful journey. I would have sworn that this was a Spotted Peccary release; it has the same immense tone and phrasing so similar to what I’m used to hearing from that label, it was a surprise that this is apparently self-produced. I have enjoyed Kettering’s two previous releases, but on Pathways he makes a quantum leap in both style and substance. It is huge both in tone and in the perception of who Chad Kettering is as an artist. This is further cemented in the fact that Kettering doesn’t stick to one sound on Pathways. Yes, there are songs that should be the soundtrack to some fabulous nature documentary with long, swooping shots racing over a frozen tundra, but there are also funky uptempo pieces and plenty of world music influences at play as well. We are brought into Pathways on the twinkling keyboard and emphatic strings of “Openings” before we’re hit with a burst of drama, vocal pads, and a tempo switch. Here’s the first hint that Kettering has gone large. I distinctly recall having a “wow” moment at hearing this, and even more so when he throws in a drop then charges back up the other side of the break with a glitch-style rush under romantic strings. “Finding My Way” suddenly tosses us into a gorgeous sequencer riff, and the changeover is very effective. Now we understand that this ride is covering a lot of ground. High energy and great textures make this a standout track. Cellist Kari Kettering of the Dallas Symphony Orchestra lends soul-shaking, rich low-end sounds to “The Fire Within.” Again on this track Mr. Kettering makes great use of a drop. He builds the sound up to a potent thickness, rising out of a slow cello dirge and pads, then snaps it off and gives Mrs. Kettering the floor to set the tone and tempo for the latter half of the track. Like me, you’ll probably feel yourself waiting for this thing to burst upward as the cello phrase repeats over and over and small elements find their way in. It’s a nice, slow burn augmented with operatic vocals from Francesca Genco. Get up close with this one. The cello takes center again on the world-music-style “Close To You.” Thundering drums, wordless chanting vocals, and the hurried bass thrum of the cello form a bottom line for the melody. It’s another great pairing of energy and softness. Ms. Genco’s voice is absolutely stirring on the ambient depths of “The Infinity Mirror.” Paired off at the outset with heavy low-end pads and a windswept electronic atmosphere, she cries out a beautiful prayer. It comes back in an ethereal echo as Kettering fills the space with ringing chimes. This is Pathways‘ quietest track, comparatively speaking, yet it’s still very dynamic in its movement. Again, get in close for this one. The closing track, “Standing Upon the Edge,” is one that must have special meaning for Kettering—he notes that it his return to the trumpet after a 20-year hiatus, having started his musical career as a classical trumpeter. Pull in your Mark Isham comparisons for this one as Kettering lays down phrases over droning pads and plays with loops and echoes. The sound is very deep and swirling and hypnotic, leading us at last to a very hushed ending.

Hands down and without question in my mind, Pathways is one of the year’s best New Age/contemporary instrumental albums. Quite frankly, this should be up for every conceivable award and Best Of list out there. Chad Kettering has taken a bit of a risk in suddenly going this big, this symphonic, this grand, and he utterly freaking nails it. Put this release on at higher volume to take in its grandiose-by-plan potency, but also give it some close listens because Kettering has gone into very fine detail at the tiniest levels. This is powerful, emotional, attention-grabbing music and it is a completely rewarding experience for the listener. A stunning release, a must-hear. Bravo, Mr. Kettering.

Available from Chad Kettering’s web site.

Richard Neale jams 10 songs into 20 minutes on Deep Blue (Part 1). You can chuck about a minute and a half out of the mix, that time covered by four tracks that roll in under 30 seconds and don’t feel like they offer much outside of their use as demarcation points between the main tracks. The exception is the short piano piece, “Nc3 dxe4,” which, at a minute-forty, at least feels complete. What remains is quite strong stuff on the border of experimental music, pumping with energy and interesting treatments. “Your Move” has a bit of an Art of Noise feel hiding in its vocal samples. It’s an effective and deceptively simple track with layers of loops circling over a strong drumbeat. Fresh elements shuffle in to change up the tone and keep it interesting. If you can get past the music-box twinkle of “EPCOT” and give it a minute or so, it transforms. Opening as a kind of study in tonal contrasts, it first pairs the chime tones with a short, repeating piano phrase and a rising wall of drone. That cuts out and the track becomes a more energetic, minimalist thing with the chimes taking on a sequencer feel against frenetic drums. One more shift brings the piano back in, and the track zips toward its close. Neale hits his stride late in the album. “Wonky Beatst” is a pulse-driven piece filled with cool tones and a jazzy beat. Neale immerses his piano sounds in a murky resonance that makes it feel like it’s just a little ways off, and keeps it there. He adds layers again, always smoothly, and keeps the energy up consistently. “Ax” begins quietly, then abruptly slams the throttle to full and a hard-hitting base note. Give that a few moments, then cue the noise. Neale drops in a huge wash of over-amped sound that lands like a weapons strike, then plays with bringing it all in and out at varying times. Just a big, meaty track that demands extra volume.

There is some very listenable stuff on Deep Blue (Part 1) and with this being, I believe, Neale’s first foray into our area, having come from the folk world, it leaves me interested in hearing more from him. I do think there are some rough end-edits hiding in the mix here that briefly bugged my ear, and while I’m sure the short pieces served an artistic purpose, they were small bumps in the flow for me. Check it out for yourself, certainly.

Available from Bandcamp.

Let’s have Mr. Tobias introduce his album, Tristes Tropiques: “A dreamy, hypnotic, melancholy-soaked collection evoking far-flung places where small-scale societies and indigenous cultures have vanished or are in the process of being swallowed by an ever-expanding global civilization.” Cheery, huh? What I hear is a collection of off-kilter, inventive, somewhat post-rock musings.  I say somewhat because while the standard song structure pops through in places, it’s most often warped a bit or coated in curling ambient sounds. It comes out like a soundtrack for wandering through a hazy fog late at night, head down and a little sad. The melancholy factor here is quite high, but beautifully handled, darts of emotion that pack solid punch. The post-rock side of the equation is not as present at the start of the album; it slides in later. “Malayakolam (Rising Sun)” falls more into a drone space. A manipulated chant repeats hypnotically over a building wall of pads and guitar. Tobias bookends the album with this idea—the closer is called “Malayakolam (Setting Sun).” But as soon as the second track kicks in, we’re in a more rhythmic space. “Piraha” has a certain edge-of-tribal cool to its percussion, but offsets it with warbling guitar. Or at least, I think that’s a guitar. Whatever it is, the sound hooks straight into me. From there, most tracks cleave to a post-rock kind of line that’s underscored with the foggy, sad sounds of drone and, throughout, an air of the familiarly exotic. “Xingu” is a piano soundtrack to a walk in the rain, a simple ballad made deeper through atmosphere. “Hiva Oa” pairs slow-picked acoustic guitar and ambient drones that occasionally threaten to rise up in dissonance, but inevitably behave. It creates an interesting “where are we going?” vibe to the piece. “Gharapuri” jettisons us into the album’s darkest space. Here, we’re back with manipulated chant, but it feels more aggressive. The drones underneath have a scary-movie edge to them, a real sense of tension. The fact that it’s followed by the bright, clean acoustic tones of “Nan Madol” shows Tobias’ sense of balance, which is on display throughout. That’s one thing that impressed me about Tristes Tropiques; it’s well balanced between dark and light, heavy and quiet. Also, the longest track here is under six minutes long, yet every track lands with exquisite force. Tobias loads a more-than-amplke supply of emotion into his work.

Tristes Tropiques is a vivid, fully realized album that rewards the up-close listen. It’s only 44 minutes long, but the time spent inside it stretches out nicely. Expect many repeat listens for this one. A captivating release from Todd Tobias.

Available from Hidden Shoal.