Review by Matt Poacher for The Liminal --
My only previous brush with Cian Nugent was his bright ‘When the Snow Melts and Floats Downstream’ from the third in the series from Tompkins Square. That hadn’t really prepared me for the scope and ambition of , a 45-minute, two-song epic taking in post-Takoma explorations, dissonant drones and ecstatic, full band excursions into O’Rourke-inspired bliss. Nugent has said that the album is in some way a challenge to himself, and that ‘writing and constructing these long pieces was an attempt to exercise some control over my wavering patience’ – a very timely passion given the prevalence of franticity and ‘continual partial attention’. But what he’s constructed with these meandering, yet never sprawling narrative pieces is never mere virtuosity or showiness: there is coherence, power and emotional depths within these sinewy lines and forms. ‘Sixes and Sevens’ is probably the standout of the two tracks, moving from an almost Bacharach-like bounce to something more sombre and bleak at the midpoint (reminiscent of Gravenhurst in places, James Blackshaw in others) before wheezing to a close with a warm echo of the opening figures. It suggests so many potential avenues you can’t help but be excited for what Nugent might produce next.