William Brittelle: Spiritual America
New Amsterdam Records / Nonesuch Records

If a classically minded prog-rocker were to create a song cycle featuring a female lead singer, electronics, strings, electric guitars, brass, percussion, and woodwinds, it might sound something like William Brittelle's Spiritual America. To describe it as audacious isn't off-base, but for this Brooklyn-based composer it's consistent with the kind of genre-bending material for which he's become known. The recording plays as if the co-founder and co-Artistic Director of New Amsterdam Records set out to distill every bold gesture the label stands for into a single, standalone statement.

Though his is the sole name on the cover, it's not a solo production. Wye Oak members Jenn Wasner (vocals) and Andrew Stack (drums, bass), guitarist Ben Cassorla, the Brooklyn Youth Chorus, and the NYC-based chamber orchestra Metropolis Ensemble take part, the leader himself credited with synthesizers, electronics, piano, and samples (Marc Dancigers and Zach Hanson also play guitar, the latter bass too). It's undoubtedly Brittelle's project, however: he masterminded it and wrote all the material but for “I Know the Law,” a bonus track by Wye Oak he re-imagined. That said, Wasner and Stack's contributions are so critical Wye Oak's name could conceivably have appeared on the front cover as collaborators to Brittelle.

It's probably safe to say that nothing quite like Spiritual America has been heard before. That's not to suggest it's sui generis—no music is. But Brittelle combines elements here in a way that's not been done before, or at least never so strikingly. On paper, the project could appear bombastic, what with the army of resources utilized for its creation, yet he somehow makes full use of said resources without the result becoming overblown. His inspired amalgam of prog rock, melodic pop, and modern classical makes for an exhilarating listen.

It's also his concept that drives the project. We're told the project began when this self-described “agnostic Buddhist” experienced a family crisis that prompted prayers to God, an instinctual response to a traumatic event that suggested something happening deep within him that needed to be addressed and Spiritual America the eventual response. Lyrically, the songs are more allusive than transparent, Brittelle's preference for oblique writing reflected in lines such as “There is a telephone wire connecting each house / That separates us from the mirror world of death” (“Abattoir”). Yet if the texts themselves are enigmatic, a clear overall impression forms that emphasizes yearning, supplication, and ecstasy.

Described in simplest terms, a typical song embeds Wasner's voice and the Brooklyn Youth Chorus within dense constructions where an instrumental ‘rock' core of raw electric guitar, drums, bass, and keyboards pairs with orchestral strings, horns, and woodwinds. Melody's paramount in these oft-heavy, cinematic songs, and changes happen fast, with sounds colliding rapidly without collapsing into incoherence. When an unaccompanied flute appears for a moment at the center of “Topaz Were the Waves,” the effect startles for being so rare.

August 2019