Those who purchased a copy of Imaginational Anthem Vol. 8 are likely familiar with the name Tom Armstrong. Most everybody else…probably not so much, for the latest installment in the long-running series of instrumental guitar compilations is focused upon private press releases. In a positive development, Tompkins Square is reissuing Armstrong’s sole LP as the first of several full albums from artists included on IA8. If post-Fahey fingerpicking springs to mind, wipe that noodle clean, for the The Sky is an Empty Eye plugs in, gets much nearer to a psychedelic disposition, and even dishes a bit of vocals. It’s out on vinyl, compact disc, and digital April 28.
Armstrong’s comes closest to the American Primitive guitar approach right away on The Sky is an Empty Eye, the structural framework and mood of opening track “White Pines” somewhat reminiscent of Takoma-era Fahey, though it’s a similarity immediately offset by the guitarist’s deft tempo changes and a distinctive use of harmonics.
Those bell-like tones subside roughly halfway through the piece as the folky inclination redirects toward searching yet unperturbed and mildly psych-oriented progressions. This shift is ultimately helpful in situating Armstrong even further afield from the American Primitive fingerpicking tradition; it’s a style that’s played a significant role in shaping subsequent solo guitar activities, and nowhere more so than the Imaginational Anthem series mentioned above.
“White Pines” was Tompkins Square’s pick for Vol. 8, an entry collecting tracks from assorted self-recorded and released discoveries from the ’60s to the ’90s. The Sky is an Empty Eye was issued on Armstrong’s Dharma Bum Records, the Kerouac-inspired name deepening a spiritual undercurrent as the album’s largely non-vocal nature helps keep the contents from becoming too spaced-out or insubstantial.
To the contrary, the LP is a well-grounded affair, a trait strengthened by the unexceptional (if quite enlightening) circumstances leading up to its making; the story as told by Armstrong includes open mics, a financial windfall, a Tascam 4 track recorder, and the eventual cutting of the record, with copies described as handed out rather than sold. This distinction might lead some to infer a lower standard of quality, but if so that’s a faulty conclusion. “White Pines” details sterling technique and an avoidance of imitation.
The woozy amplified slide of “The Thing” drives home that Armstrong wasn’t beholden to anybody else’s style, and the straightforward melodic prettiness of “Dream Waltz” adds additional range without losing the folkish thread. Taken together, these three initial cuts establish the astuteness of the endeavor from conception (Armstrong states that he “recorded a bunch”) to the stages of whittling down and assemblage.
The album doesn’t falter, but unlike some private press objects, which often have an aura of dashed hopefulness hovering about them, it doesn’t seem designed as any kind of steppingstone to bigger things. Instead, it refreshingly registers ideas fleshed out over time and then finalized; reinforcing this scenario is Armstrong never releasing another record. The succinct, gently distorted beauty of “Burleske” makes this bittersweet. The tune itself has an almost medieval feel, but it’s delivered with a rock era cognizance, and it’s one of the LP’s highlights.
Due to its pedal steel-ish slide, “Keller” has a Western sensibility that’s never overdone in winding down the LP’s first side. Injecting the human voice into this scenario is obviously tricky, but Armstrong’s singing enhances the psych-folk that’s smartly positioned at the front of side two, and the spell is not broken; “The Sky is an Empty Eye” combines unstrained vocals, clouds of glistening, stinging electricity, and what sounds like banjo pluck (though it just might be an unconventional tuning) into an engaging whole.
The title track has a slight and welcome edginess, but “Winter Lament” exudes a more relaxed feel with a subtly increased intensity as it nears the concise finish. To his credit, Armstrong is disinterested in lingering around for too long, though “Mama’s Baby” is maybe a little too brief, coming off like an amped-up coffeehouse fragment.
“Bebop” follows, and while it isn’t much longer, the piece still offers an abundance of content, although its most impressive feat is in being jazzy without becoming obnoxious. The music spreads out substantially for the gliding psychedelic closer “Thunder Clouds,” which slowly rises in the mix and has a superb late-night feel, like something one would cue up after spinning Oar by Skip Spence.
Altogether, the disc oozes a ’60s vibe while sounding neither like a relic or an attempt at redux. It is the work of its creator right down to the jacket design, but it lacks the unchecked aspects that regularly accompany private press LPs; currently, The Sky is an Empty Eye connects more like a companion than a catalyst, or put another way, it’s good company rather than a grabber. But sometimes that’s exactly what’s needed, and hopefully Tom Armstrong’s solitary recording reflects what’s upcoming on Tompkins Square’s private press Guitar Soli schedule.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
B+
