Duke Garwood
Heavy Love
Reviewed by: Andres Rodriguez
Duke Garwood has a history of collaborations on various instruments, from guitar with the ambient-dub outfit The Orb to clarinet with the post-punk band Savages. However, Garwood’s solo records are where the London songwriter is able to conceive his own warm, comforting worlds somewhere between hazy blues and expansive American Primitivism. On his fifth solo outing, titled Heavy Love, Garwood crafts a dimly lit mood piece, flecked by licks of guitar, propelled by deliberate heartbeat percussion and shrouded by wisps of ambiance.
On Heavy Love, no song is spare. Each is backed by a waft of warmth: a dusty organ drone or ominous washes of guitar. A primal thump leads the opening cut, “Sometimes”, before Garwood’s husky, seductive voice enters. These songs dance in a mystical realm, flirting with cosmic experimental arenas embodied by artists like Ash Ra Tempel.
The title track is marked by humble guitar musings at the round ends of each lyric. Here he sounds most like Steve Gunn, one of the leading masters of the American Primitive guitar. However, rather than conveying melody or displaying proficiency, Garwood’s compositions focus on filling the air with moods.
The entirety of Heavy Love feels like a slow, warm haze, which is to note it does not offer much variety. By the thirty-second mark of each track, Garwood reveals where the songs will wander for the next few minutes—with the exception of highlight “Snake Man”, wielding a phantom-like harmonica passage midway through. Still, the aura is consistent and the record never feels self-indulgent or showy.
By the time the closer, “Hawaiian Death Song”, rolls around, the listener has been wrapped in a cozy blanket made of swelling waves of guitar and Garwood’s echoing voice. Slow burning and pure, Heavy Love is Duke Garwood’s snug placement in a post-blues fog.
Rating: Listenable
