Circling guitar lines; the rise of fall of delicate bass; deep, breathy horns: sonic elements that exist in a state of slow, perpetual motion, like ideas sprouting from some kind of cognitive compost. With wonder and charm, G. S. Schray's new solo album, 'Whispered Something Good', evokes a realm of new growth while offering a fitting soundtrack for it's exploration, as if tailor made for both the daydreamer and silly adventurer.We start in the darkness of 'Unlit Center' with elliptical phrases of jazz guitar. A conversation between double bass, synthesizer, and piano plays out on 'In Tears Twice A Page' before we're ushered into the reflective zone of 'Another Haunted Mirror.' There is synth mist which trumpet cuts through decisively like a shaft of light from the sun: warm and clear. As the album proceeds, firmer rhythms coalesce. On 'Prelude for Probably,' clattering drums lock into a triumphant groove with horns. And then, to close, the instrumental art-pop of 'Gone in Amber,' probing not necessarily towards a final destination but another stop-off, one of distant birdsong and the faintest flicker of synth. Intimate and inviting, the act of listening to 'Whispered Something Good' is akin to digging through an imagination. It's a place of subliminal melodies blooming into rhizomatic musical shapes, stray musings coalescing as bolts of inspiration - change fostering yet more change.
