I heard recently that there was a period in human history where there was no separation between poetry and music. They were indistinguishable and interchangeable in their inception. To some degree, I see Brooklyn trio Scree returning to that tradition- only in reverse. Where poetry is often understood as rhythmic patterns of speech, offering suggestible phrasing for interpretation, the group, led by guitarist Ryan El-Solh, instead renders suggestions of textual phrasing through graciously patient, rhythmic interplays of guitar, percussion, and upright bass- an interlacing of sound which hues towards the grandiloquent in an unpretentious and accessible manner. In particular, Ryan's guitar playing on their latest LP Jasmine On A Night In July, elevates the floor of perception up to the level of the mind's eye, presenting a stable of fable-like portrayals upon the stage of your own cognition, allowing sounds and attentive waves of motion to pluck character sketches, scenes and dialogue from the gallery of the unconscious in prompted participation where there would otherwise be mere spectacle. As a result, it's almost impossible not to feel tangled in the threaded sway of the group's arrangements- a serious degree of engrossment that never presents as confining, only supportive. The warm, vespertine vim of Scree's performances is inviting at its utmost, permitting a projection of one's self into the evening to write one's own stanzaic impressions upon the twinkling tassels of the stars. Held aloft by the enduring poetical trestle of the group's strings and percussive inlays, Scree tenders to you an encounter that is as gentle as falling starlight and revitalizing as a deep inhale of clean, night air.
