GuitarGarden – China Rose

My has the garden grown. Out of the seeds of fusion comes an album of symphonic gratification. This is not your typical instrumental album. The grooves are plowed with the vitality of youth and hoed with the wisdom of well-worn hands. The stalks are fortified with the elements of melodic jazz.

While the music is masterful, the mixing and mastering is meant only for those with the most discriminating tastes. It’s a bold and beautiful bonanza specifically suited for a demanding ear. The engineering department should get an award for their quality assurance. As a whole, the production ward deserves a day off for their efforts. The flowers really bloom in their meticulous cultures and generous arrangements.

Even so, it doesn’t end there…

In addition to the knowledge and attentiveness they’ve bestowed upon their agriculture, the songwriting is extraordinarily chic and sophisticated. It’s rare to see such synergy integrated between the parts.

Still, as good as they are in planning and implementation, they don’t falter in the most important of places…

While the blueprints are flawless and the plan of attack is solid, the execution is just plain merciless. With great enthusiasm, I wholeheartedly endorse the deeds done in the studio. They really leave no opportunity neglected nor does a detail go undetected. The wing is fitted to the fuselage with calibration, concentration, and care. While it’s as zippy as a Japanese car, it’s as tight as a German tank. For something that’s so large and looming, it’s nimble, supple, and lithe.

In an era where the radio disappoints and the Indies are far from united, GuitarGarden presents a gorgeous bouquet of passionate plant life. Between the fertilizers, beneficial nematodes, and sugar-coated lady bugs, the results are sweet, colorful, and juicy.

Here’s what you’ll find flourishing in their bodacious backyard:

Erhu – The album blossoms in the birth of its beginnings. It materializes in the same grueling manner as Gordian Knot’s Emergent. This could have easily been the highlight and title track. If they named the album Erhu, nobody would have batted an eye or thought to question their decision. It’s an instrumental, but the guitar sings like Queen’s Freddie Mercury. When it’s not chanting, it’s chirping like Jiminy Cricket or Jon Secada. This is the kind of cut you’d typically see sprouting on the estate of The Flower Kings. His highness will have you humming along as if there were actually words to complement the composition. While there isn’t any verbiage, it doesn’t really matter anyway. To give it bulk, it’s as morose and moody as Fates Warning’s metallic rumblings. It’s sort of like OSI’s “The Thing That Never Was.” Scanning its collage of qualities, you’d think Jim Matheos had a hand in its trimmings. Don’t get me wrong. It’s far from glum and has intensely sensual innuendo. This is mostly due to the subtle ways it’s been pruned, snipped, and nurtured. Without a doubt, it’s definitely jazz fusion, owing its individuality particularly to its light and airy aspects. In sum total, it’s sheer bliss. When music such as this exists, you’ll feel good and nothing is going to bring you down.

China Rose – It was the right decision to put this one second. Just when they have impressed the socks off you, they knock you senseless. They rip the fabric till it’s tattered, torn, and seamless. This song is so syrupy and sappy; it sweetens the batter as if it was Aunt Jemima’s secret sauce on a batch of buttermilk pancakes. George Michael, Phil Collins, and Peter Gabriel would feel at home among the emotional rhythms. It’s elated and inspirational, coating the leaves in the creamiest of dressings. This is the kind of fare that’s most definitely made for heaven. It’s sculpted with the labors of Body Pump and ready to run The Boston Marathon. After all the training, it’s a relief when it crosses the line and breaks the ribbon. When it finally does exhaust and exceed the threshold, it’s not only won, but given its personal best. It couldn’t have put forth a better performance. While the opener was overly impressive, though it’s hard to believe, this is actually quite equal in merit.

Green Mountain – At this point, you’ll be thinking the music is so good, it’s silly. This album chronicles the best of times and this is no exception. Every song is strong, but more importantly, they are distinctly different from the next. For that reason, it never tires, fatigues, or let’s down for an instance. As for this one, it trickles like waters streaming down a mountainside. While it ebbs and flows with static electricity, it maintains a fine climate and clear skies. It’s a stroll through Ireland’s most attractive countryside. We are sporadically sprinkled and doused in delicate drizzles. Still, it’s okay to stay outside on this sea green day. The atmosphere is alive and the pastures are speckled in lime. The mountains in the foggy horizon are huge while the air is thin and crispy. They are yet to lose your attention for a moment. It’s a climb to the summit of Mount Everest with an abrupt stop at the end to catch your breath. It might be folksy at the base, but before it’s done it’ll take us as far west as the California Guitar Trio would normally take us.

Cloudburst – On this wintry, rainy day, the fireplace is crackling with pine cones and needles. This time is spent in the warmth of a cozy cottage protected from the harsh conditions outside. Due to the sanctuary it provides, it has an Eric Johnson vibe. Yet, it has its own kind of eccentricity and soul. This kissing cousin has something feminine about it. Like a figure skater, it has elegance and grace, form, finesse, and focus. Factored into its routine, it lands its moves with technicality, art, and ease. It deserves high points like the others, but scores unusually well with even the most stringent judges. Simon would be too busy enjoying himself to think of anything nasty to say. On this dark and chilly night, it’s faultless. This ice queen has heart as it skates an error-free program. Since formidable bits precede it, it might not be boss, but it’s a frontrunner in its campaign as chief of police. With that said, this has Sting written all over it.

Lotus – The syndicate of Yes escapes the mob and travels to the Orient. There they settle down and start a Chinese restaurant. With each meal, they serve their guests a tureen of symphonic soup on the side. Adding to the ambiance, they surround themselves with fragile artifacts. Among the exotic instruments, a progression of harps is prevalent. They’re fish out of water, but there is no need for nerves. Away from the grasp of the Triad, they are blasé, blithe, and unconcerned.

Bird of Paradise – This chirps like a school of playful finches pecking at a bird feeder. A Sitar flutters among the insatiable sparrows and ravenous ravens. The birds share communicative chatter and complement the gossip with hysterical laughter. Ultimately, the chaos makes way for a commanding eagle. With its incredible wingspan, the album is at no risk of losing its lift.

Blue – Within this prism of sound resides a colossal sphere of influence. This mighty orb has the markings of Marillion, Pendragon, and Genesis. The passionate playing on the guitar ruminates with Steve Hackett’s regal essence.

Ashes of the Pogoda – This is short, but it carries a ton of panache. Regardless of its diminutive stature, this will definitely get some notice. The guitar is busy, making quick work out of the melodies. It gets as much done as a song that’s twice its dimension. To draw an honest comparison, it’s almost an encounter with The Jimi Hendrix Experience. Even at half the length, it’s a keeper and a showstopper. It’s serious and it’s no small matter. While it’s amusing, there is nothing clown-like about it. Like Joe Pesci’s characters in Goodfellas and Casino, you might be inclined to dismiss it, but one way or the other you’ll have to deal with it.

Erhu – Between this one and the earlier version, it’s hard to say which one’s better. They both belong on the album and I think they went exactly where they were meant to be seated. The beginning of this one reminds me of Sweden’s own Liquid Scarlet. Like the Biathlon at Torino, the Scandinavian presence appears out of nowhere. This winning effort beats the younger entrees and all the European veterans. It takes aim, makes every shot, and goes home with the most precious of the medals. It’s interesting how they snuck these ambitious actions into the fold before bringing the games to a close with nothing, but gold. They end where they began with a song that’s so lofty, it’s presidential. This surely deserves the nomination for best song on the album. I can’t get enough of this number and they extend the hem to accommodate a much taller member.

Through every stage of the album, GuitarGarden invigorates, illuminates, and enlightens. It does so in the span of 47 tenderly tended minutes.

In a recent discussion with an artist, I expressed the fact that all fusion sounds the same. I spoke much too soon. This album is unforgettable in many ways. Mainly, it’s the melodies that are truly memorable. Even hours after these pieces have been picked, I can hear them reverberating in the pleasure centers of my head. Thus, each vegetable in the patch has quite the aftertaste. Specifically, this statement applies to Erhu.

Before I knew what I was missing, I started to get burned out on fusion. As a result, it took me awhile to crack the wrapper and finally give this album its due. Literally, this one was lying around forever before I broke the seal and ripped away the plastic. Nevertheless, once I did, I became a huge fan of this disc. It combines clever themes, compositional theory, and technical wit. Altogether, the pieces and parts fit together wonderfully and by no means is this expression overstated. This chemical cola releases invigorating endorphins without the presence of NutraSweet, aspartame, or any number of phony flavors. It’s hard to believe they can market such a palatable product without resorting to rudimentary recipes or dreary rehash. It’s a natural tonic and it goes down like a gumdrop. This licorice lozenge makes babies breathe from the most heinous of hacking coughs. I don’t care what mood you in when you slip this one in. Once it plays, you’ll be as rosy and relaxed as a patron in a Shiatsu Parlor. Avoid my mistake… Don’t dismiss this disc!

9/10