Ayal Senior

I’ve had this one on the headphones for a little while, but it’s not the kind of record that can be absorbed easily. The third in a trilogy of works by site favorite Ayal Senior, the new record expands his sound with the help of a large ensemble of studio regulars and new collaborators. It’s as big as he’s ever sounded, yet at the same time a record that embraces the idea of solitude and stillness. Centered around the title’s meditative concept of “spaciousness,” or leaving room to breathe, it’s a concept in quietude that pairs Senior’s impeccable stringwork with a soft touch of percussion, the caress of Kurt Newman’s pedal steel, and Michael Davidson’s Vibraphone.

The record swirls around the listener in snow drifts, dancing and inviting the listener to play through its paces. It settles like steam on mugs, ripples like the simmer of soup in the background. It’s an environment that invites the listener in, an activation of the senses that widens the panorama of any listener. The hearth-warmth of the album radiates, tying together the edges of jazz, folk, and a flicker of pastoral psych. The latter laps at the record like a dream, making it feel half-remembered, half-imagined. Ayal has worked at an ambitious pace over the past few years, but with Yutori ゆとり , he’s elevated the ache to new levels.

Support the artist. Buy it HERE.