Shane Parish - Liverpool (2022) Hi-Res

It makes sense that Shane Parish’s new album sounds definitively like a form of exploration, and not just because its subject matter deals, however obliquely, with a life on the ocean waves. While Liverpool is, in the simplest terms, an album of guitar instrumentals based on sea shanties, it is also a meditation on the nature of artistic exploration, on how both music and preconceptions can alter over time. This becomes clearer when we learn that the album itself is a product of change: initially conceived as a collection of solo acoustic pieces, the electric compositions that made it on to the final cut only came about late in the game, after Parish made a deliberate (and, it turns out, inspired) choice to look to his own back catalogue for inspiration. As the lead guitarist in prog experimentalists Ahleuchatistas he is well-versed in the art of making weird and wonderful sounds while hooked up to an amp. On Liverpool, he makes good use of his pedigree, tuning in to the exciting and sometimes discomforting area between melody and abstraction.

This further step away from the traditionalism of the original material lends the whole album an eerie, untamed edge. Opener Liuerpul begins in a squall of noise before a searching guitar and insistent drums (played by Michael Libramento) take the whole thing in a post-rock direction. There are elements of David Grubbs here and elsewhere on the album, but with a greater sense of drama, a more profound tension between the human and the elemental. This tension seems to derive in part from the way the source material is used: Parish adapts the vocal melody (which is evidently the most important part of a shanty), essentially turning his guitar into a conduit for lost human voices.

This technique allows him to be delicate and full of yearning, as on the starkly beautiful Black Eyed Susan, or the brief and lovely Eliza Lee (where the stripped back arrangement allows us to peek for a minute into Parish’s creative process). But it also allows for pieces with big, overwhelming structures, like Banks Of Newfoundland, which transcends its relatively short run time to evoke a vast and chilly landscape. The guitars, a contrasting squeal and rumble, make you fully aware of the possibilities of a single musical instrument, and when the background noise drops out towards the end and leaves us with just the tune, it becomes clear that Parish is as accomplished at manipulating mood as he is at playing the guitar.

Liverpool hangs together very well as an album, but that does not mean that it lacks diversity. Venezuela reminds me a little of Felt guitarist Maurice Deebank, with an added dash of Ennio Morricone, while Randy Dandy O mixes dexterity and distortion to impressive effect. Perhaps best of all is Haul Away Joe, where layered guitars provide a haunting approximation of the human voice. At first, it seems like the music is bracing itself against the teeth of a storm before it builds and spirals and becomes part of the storm itself. Santy Anno is looser and more experimental, a lesson in deconstructing a melody while retaining the shape and feel of a song.

The lengthy final piece, Rio Grande, provides a shimmer of comparative calm, expanding like a ripple, all chime and texture. It seems as far away from a traditional sea shanty as it’s possible to get, but it says a lot for Parish’s vision that it keeps you hooked until the very end. One of his reasons for making this album was to unlock ‘the code to resonance within the body’, the inscrutable power that exists within worksongs that makes them timeless and uniquely human. It’s safe to say that he has achieved that goal and made a breathtaking and singular album in the process.