Review Summary: Let the night possess you
Whether
June is itself emblematic of month or muse matters a lot less considering just how much Manuel Trillo accomplishes with so little. Between sparse, finger-plucked acoustic melodies, dissonant strings, subtle distortion, and a voice that is as meditative as it is resonant, an elegance lurks. A sinister sort of elegance -- a shadowy, dreadful sort of elegance -- though an elegance no less. Buried beneath warm progressions and a noticeable attention to detail, an unenviable darkness permeates, informs the album's well-considered sounds.
Given such a description, one would be forgiven for assuming
June's aesthetic to be haunting. Indeed, it
is haunting. 'An Old Fire,' as vivid and iridescent as its title's invocation, though lacking in its warmth, is a soft slew of sounds, an assortment of unintelligible guitars, strings, chants; it's quite impossible to distinguish. Yet its immediate conjuring of trenches of demons past is evocative and unambiguous. Establishing Manuel's impressive power for evoking images, the opener kindles something of a pharmakon. It acts as the prelude to
June's own fire -- both in a literal and thematic sense -- and offers brief refuge.
June is haunting, but it's also inviting. Where 'An Old Fire' foreshadows theme and essence, 'A New Fire' establishes sound and substance. Despite it and its surrounding material all taking the form of slight, indie-folk ballad, this label does little justice and it's difficult to dissect. Approaching six minutes, at some point in the track what seems to me like an electric guitar emerges: it sounds almost like an organ, sometimes like a chant.
June intrigues me. What little sounds exist cascade. At some other point, the song's structure shifts with masterful ease.
June confuses me, but Manuel invites the listener in on his catharsis. His voice, warm and full, bridges the gap between the album's torment and its sense of relief. Which isn't at all to argue that Manuel relents. It's not till 'City of Ghosts' that the listener is roused from the chaotic lull that is the opener. Rather, Manuel as a songwriter maintains an impressive sense of restraint throughout the album. At no point does he hide amongst the shadows, nor does he allow them to consume him. On this level,
June is comforting in a manner in which few albums are.
To some extent,
June is predictable, though it does have its excursions. 'Aging' is a short piece of acapella that acts as an effective interlude; 'Why We Fought' is reminiscent of
Songs Of era Leonard Cohen, whether it knows it or not; and throughout the album are scattered brief moments of curious contemplation through sound, in short, subtle bursts of electric guitar, angelic melodies, pensive guitar tones. With these ten tracks, Manuel covers a lot of ground. Perhaps most impressive about
June is just how much there is to be enthralled in. I suppose the title-track is a little too derivative of the album's central sound for its own good, beginning to find comfort in these familiar tones, but sandwiched between 'Ink' and 'Haze' -- two of
June's most captivating offerings -- it acts as an important bridge between the two. In terms of performance, Manuel's vocals are perhaps the weakest aspect, though it's of little consequence considering his voice itself is the album’s glue, undoubtedly sticky and holding all of its component parts together. It's warm, contemplative, and tortured where it needs to be, and never not resonant.
Buried somewhere deep beneath
June, an ill-lit oasis reflects the uneven ceiling of a loured cave. As stalactites drip, salts threaten to penetrate what little slivers of light pierce the cavernous shadows. Whether
June is itself emblematic of month or muse, cave or oasis, shadow or light, borders meaningless, all things considered. It's masterful and kind.
