MoonJune 2018
Tales From The Dreaming City
With no time for nostalgia, English guitarist evokes electric reminiscences and gets carried away.
In his relentless pursuit of transparency – in a solo mode as on 2015’s "Proof Of Light" or in a series of dialogues with Kevin Kastning such as "The Line To Three" – this artist sometimes has to retreat to a more solid state and start a fire, like "The Stone House" demonstrated. It was there that the guitarist set on the route to “Tales From The Dreaming City” and it’s there that he returns to on “Looking Back At The Amber Lit House” and a few other free-form, yet purposeful, tracks here. Free-form but not abstract: the sort of melodic existence serving Mark Wingfield the best way possible.
In accordance with the album’s title, Mark’s numbers have multiple storylines now, which don’t linger when it comes to drawing the listener’s attention, Wingfield’s liquid flame pouring out of “The Fifth Window” to sear and caress a willing ear at the same time, until riffs emerge from under electronic glimmer and add angular carcass to the otherwise well-rounded piece. Of course, any skeleton needs fleshing out so, delicately supported by Yaron Stavi’s bass and Asaf Sirkis’ drums, the guitarist would dapple impressionist daubs in muscular twang on “Sunlight Cafe” – as opposed to “At A Small Hour Of The Night” that’s spiced with nocturnal romanticism and startled strokes, or “A Wind Blows Down Turnpike Lane” whose energy is married to elegy in quite a unique manner.
Full of soft harmonies, if inherently intense, “The Way To Hemingford Grey” may be the most dynamic adventure on display, folding into a quiet zone, where Dominique Vantomme’s ivories reverberate, from a loud, though never crowded, spot, while “This Place Up Against The Sky” offers a rarefied, silence-infused atmosphere, yet “I Wonder How Many Miles I’ve Fallen” will direct its perilously unpredictable meander toward prog-rock rather than fusion, as raga-kissed six strings run through various tones and techniques with a prospect of reflecting on the composer’s reverie. Once there, the majestic, solemn “Ten Mile Bank” should introduce Marks’s spirituality to the record’s emotional flow, and provide a dance-tinctured interface for “The Green-Faced Timekeepers” – given wondrous vibes and cosmic synthesizer’s wave to spur Wingfield’s not-so-gentle attack. It’s a new, interesting narrative for him, and dreaming along is an experience to remember.
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