The Rheingans Sisters – Start Close In: Album Review – At The Barrier

Anna and Rowan Rheingans Take neither prisoners nor take comfort in this darkly beautiful confection.

Release date: September 27, 2024

label: Self-published – RSCD005

format: Digital / CD

pure, flawless, pastoral and perfectly pressed

I don’t know why, but the Rheingans sisters always make me think of something pure and original, pastoral and perfectly pressed. Reality is much redder in tooth and claw, and as much purity as there is, there is also a deeper sense of unease. Maybe I’m overthinking it, but I get the Grady twins at the Overlook Hotel, all REDRUM and blood pouring out of the elevator shafts. Which is all nonsense; Anna and Rowan Rheingans aren’t even twins.

further into avant-folk

This is album number five where they move further into a definition of avant-folk with as much reference to the experimental as to the traditional, with the result expressing both in a jumble of melody and dysfunction. This is decisively demonstrated by the opener “The Devil”, a sober version of the old song “The Devil And The Farmer’s Wife”, full of drones and discord. It begins with what sounds like the creaking of a coffin lid, with all sorts of knocks and clatters that give an ironic sense of rhythm that is completely at odds with the pitch of the singing.

Imagine if Lankum was led by two English milkmaids, that’s pretty much what The Devil sounds like. Halfway through it breaks into an industrial-rustic style, if such a thing even exists, with violin sounds and a jangly pizzicato, with an overall quite enticing choral background. Happy ending? I guess that depends, courtesy of the fascinating “The women are much better than the men, they can go to hell and come back again“. Which is probably a yes, considering that’s exactly what’s happening. Oo-ee-oo.

beguiling

“Brädsmarsch” follows, an instrumental violin duet with jaw harp accompaniment that is as shrill as it is distinctive, the first plunge into the Nordic waters that the sisters are so familiar with. In short, it then breaks into Un Voltigeur, a song that begins with banjo before the newly written lyrics unfold in French. A song from Anna’s circle of friends about who to love, who to trust and how to take care of the garden. Perhaps the laxity during French class was for the best, as the siblings took no prisoners, and rightly so. A bit McGarrigley, it has a bridge and a middle structure, preceded by some saxophone from guest Daniel Thorne, which fits delicately between pizzicato violin and electric guitar. All very beguiling.

Livet Behöver Inga Drugr, translated as “Life doesn’t need drugs“, takes the couple back to the far north, a melody from the Swedish outback, where dance and violins offer plenty of variety. In an almost starkly atonal duet, her violin playing becomes almost hypnotic, as the two instruments never quite mimic each other’s steps. A much longer track follows that combines old with new, a piece from the 18th century. Slip Jig together with a composition by contemporary colleague, accordionist Steve Turner. “The Great Devil,” the first, is the most orthodox piece yet, a courtly dance that evolves through a repeating motif into the more elusive “Mr. Turner’s Hornpipe” passes before feet are found and the vortex then gets going. Another pure violin melody, you might think, until you hear the purr of Thorne’s saxophone again.

Stipe-like, boozy celebrations

Drink Up begins exactly as it suggests: a raucous celebration where violins are sawed away, but is that true? Written by Rowan, it quickly turns into a diatribe on “Now”, a post-folk version of REM’s “It’s The End Of The World As We Know It”. (The jury is still out on whether the sisters are fine; I suspect not.) It’s nearly six minutes of spooky, with clanging, off-kilter percussion that’s just as good on another level could be a rousing singalong soul song. What sounds like a chirping whistle in the background is actually a flabuta, an old form of the Gascon flute, and the percussion is a tambourine à cordes, a Provençal hand drum, both a bit more removed from the usual instruments used by the two sisters are available.

Procrastination…

To let that sink in, there’s a little reprieve in the form of “Shade Chaser,” which opens with found sounds culled from the Nås Violin Festival, from which track 4 emerged. The tune began in Anna’s hands in a crooked Quebec style and lay dormant for several years until Rowan brought it into its current form. And yes, it all starts in Vent du Nord style and builds somewhere into a roar that John Cale might be proud of if he had stuck more closely to his Celtic roots. Listen closely as it comes to an end and there is also an organ chord that plays slowly in the mix as it appears to end. This comes from album producer Adam Pietrykowski, also known as an avant-garde composer, musician in metal bands and other professor at Purchase University, NY. He may also be responsible for introducing the strange, repeating motif that closes the track.

Regret…

“Don’t get married, you’ll regret it” is the simple message of the Occitan song Sabiatz Drolletas, which delves even deeper into the style of the album opener, combining a melodic chant with a dry background and drawn-out single notes until a violin begins to dance to the same melody, the melody that the voices had struck before. It ends with a night terror of noise and drums, with bells and scurrying footsteps. The silence that follows reignites the solo violin for Marche À La Cabrette, a mystical procession that seems restful in comparison.

What trick is next?

So far we can only guess what trick the sisters will use next. It’s a surprise that Anna’s “Old Neptune” begins with warm banjo notes. Based on a tune by another friend, Will Allen, it ponders the passage of time through the metaphor of a beach and ancient Neptune.washed away on a winter day“. A beautiful song that once again evokes a feeling of McGarrigle, with the paired banjos providing a welcoming and bright backdrop to Anna’s sensitive vocals.

In complete contrast to this is “Over And Over Again”, a song that was created from improvisation and sounds like this. Disturbing strings ring out before incongruous layers of further sound struggle to make sense until the electric guitar selects a primitive American Gothic pattern. A chant of “over and over again” is picked up, a reflection of the repeating cycle of evil we face in our world, a mournful violin line then reinforcing the general helplessness the track evokes. Yikes.

The final piece, Purcell’s, could be either an attempt to move away from the despair felt in the previous piece, or perhaps to cement it by solemnly emphasizing the timelessness of it all. After all, the original melody dates back to the end of the 17th century, as if to say how far and how little we have come. Still, it’s a darkly beautiful depiction, with Thorne adding a few final honks to open the ship and let in the light.

Rewards revealed

You may suspect that this is far from an easy listen, but that shouldn’t put you off as it rewards the listener and reveals aspects that are too often hidden by adherence to tradition for the sake of tradition. This is a living, breathing, sometimes panting tradition and should be encouraged. If we were to call the 2020 recipient: “a rich and original collaboration” Then with visual artist Pierre-Olivier Boulant, this time in collaboration with Pietrykowski, it feels even richer when you need the digestif that richer dishes so often require.

Here is this Shanty Noir, Drink Up:

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