Review Summary: Stuttering gracefully
No Greater Hero than the Least Plant that Grows defines ‘static' in two distinct senses. British drone artist Christopher Hipgrave’s newest effort is both i) stationary, hovering without reaching any extreme, and ii) laden with soft, glitchy hums awash with grainy textures, as depicted by the cover. Early standout “Glittering Flecks Scattered” revels in a dusky backdrop, brought to life with lambent tones, while tracks like “Drawn Up Faster” and “The Pleasure of Being Slowly Nowhere" feel like hazy recollections, skipping over sullen undertones while struggling to find clarity. The latter feels oddly rhythmic, as the pulsating drones are bridled with static, which dip this way and that with varying intensity. It’s an example of two opposing forces balancing, creating a playful discord (neither one ‘wins’; it’s all in the fun). Hipgrave teases with this notion, as each track seems to toy with itself. “All the Things We Practiced” is an exchange, or disagreement, as the track loops back and forth between notes, growing more fervent with each cycle. When it winds down, the lines between the notes melt together peacefully.
Moments like these exemplify my love for drone by tacking on feelings to what might otherwise be considered
boring or, perhaps more optimistically, just
nice. It’s about peeling back layers, relishing in little nuances, and Hipgrave’s fifty-ish-minute piece is strewn with them. The album is never abrasive, and those new to drone/ambient/minimal/whatever should find it inviting; seasoned vets might enjoy the subtleties. “Borne on its Lightness” features lovely, fluid tonal shifts with delicate, chiming pitter-patters and radiant echoes, resulting in a distinctly soothing ambience. Closer “The Chaos of Embrace (et vice versa ad infinitum)” clarifies the album’s aforementioned themes, and the title unwittingly caters to me. I don’t normally look at track names when I listen to ambient albums initially - I consider them irrelevant for a musical ‘cold read’. There’s a satisfaction in glancing afterwards and seeing if you were on the same page as the artist, attuned to their intent. Sometimes we're way off base, and that’s fine (what’s in a name, really), but with
No Greater Hero, Hipgrave was going for something, and he succeeded. Each recording is more tranquil than the last, almost predictably so, as they rarely break this mold (the piercing tones of “Whistling Machine” are much-needed to snap things back into focus).
This is the pattern of
No Greater Hero: it lulls you, but you teeter between sinking-into-your-chair slumber and aural fixation. It doesn’t demand your attention - ‘demand’ is such a forceful word - but rather, it gently coaxes you with gorgeous production and subtle quirks. It’s music that reminds me of the thrill of the chase; however, a gentle, meandering one. In a way, Christopher Hipgrave’s creation parallels my marriage at its most ideal, where every attention to detail invokes a pleasant response in a sort of oscillating harmony, and I could stay lost in it forever.
