Parlor Tricks and Porch Favorites is a solo project by Pat Gubler, late of the New York-based oddball collective Tower Recordings. You'll enjoy it if you like Roy Montgomery's unstructured, minimalist guitar work. It'll also help to have an appreciation for, or at least a tolerance of -- dare I say it? -- Jethro Tull.
Yes, Jethro Tull. After an introduction that melds prog-rock and woodwindy Celtic folk, Gubler slips part-way into Ian Anderson mode for "When I Was a Young Man". Mind you, it's probably wiser to make a broad reference to British folk-rock of the late sixties and early seventies; Jethro Tull took that style and carried it to the sort of drug-addled extremes favored by beardy-weirdies of the day. "When I Was a Young Man" avoids such excesses, and adds an intriguing edge to the folk format via the braying howl of an electric guitar. Only the first few seconds of the track suggest Jethro Tull, but they do so strongly enough to warrant a mental "oh shit" from the listener. That fear is revived later, in the initial moments of "The Shepherd", but is once again largely unfounded.
The rest of the record is a curious and moody melange of styles -- something like the aforementioned Montgomery at his four-track friendliest, performing retro-folky Lorena McKennitt compositions and attempting to achieve the stretched-out, meditative mood of Brokeback's bass explorations. Gubler, using guitars, harps, pianos, organs and various other instruments, creates a loosely-knit and unhurried musical gloss, while Tower Recordings cohort Tim Barnes adds some action via suitably variegated percussion. Everything peaks towards the album's end with "Go Your Way", originally written by sixties folk artist Anne Briggs. Over the course of eight minutes, Gubler and Barnes create a mood of subtle, earthy magic, entrancing with a minimum of aural elements. This autumnal aura carries through the remainder of the disc, entwining itself through a mixture of styles.
Like most subtle, exploratory works, Parlor Tricks... won't leave you sitting gobsmacked in front of your stereo. As the title implies, its magic comes in small bursts, not always manifested in the most impressive manner. It's a disc that, Jethro Tull nightmares aside, will initially strike you as mildly intriguing. Quiet, pensive, lazy listening will yield modest but enduring treasures.
