Mountains
Choral
(Thrill Jockey)
and
Panâ˘American
White Bird Release
(Kranky)
With ambient music, a fine line distinguishes boring from glorious, stasis from ecstasy, "eh, no" from Eno. Here are two examples of the latter.
MountainsâNew York's Koen Holtkamp and Brendon Andereggâspecialize in organic-sounding folk-drone excursions invariably described as "pastoral." Their third full-length, Choral, begins with the 13-minute title track, which conjures a new genre tag: Adirondacks ambient. Immediately, Mountains establish their mastery of tranquilly fluctuating tones (strings and/or an accordion, it's quite like Pauline Oliveros) and soothing tintinnabulation. The piece slowly expands to take in pleasurably moaning vocals and keyboard cascades, forming a rapturous web of bliss. "Map Table" couples contemplative acoustic folk guitar with chilly ambience, evoking a Basho/Basinski collab. On "Telescope," a dewy electric guitar enchants amid stardusted drones. Like the best drone-based music, it opens a portal to the eternal. "Melodica" wistfully emits 12 minutes of cirruslike ions, augmented by shakers and bells. "Sheets Two" trembles and twinkles prettily toward the "Exit" sign. Peace out.
Panâ˘AmericanâLabradford guitarist Mark Nelson's sample/computer- oriented solo projectâhas been exploring low-pulsed composition for 11 years. White Bird Release isn't a significant detour from Panâ˘American's previous five albums. "There Can Be No Thought of Finishing" opens the disc with Nelson's familiar soothing whisper and spangly guitar filigree, which gets mutated into keening oscillations, then dispersed into sonorous vapor. "For 'Aiming at the Stars'" and "In a Letter to H. G. Wells, 1932" feature three additional musicians on drums, vibes, and basses, but they offer no real boost in rhythmic thrust. The tracks are gentle instrumental meditations that could be Tortoise at their mellowest, although the latter gradually swells into Gas-like ambient grandeur.
Ultimately, White Bird Release finds Nelson continuing his quest to freeze time through shivery drones, sighing quavers, and an icy-jointed form of ambient dub. Like all Panâ˘American releases, the new one surreptitiously swathes you in peaceful, easy feelings, which only a fool would reject in the stressful 21st century. 
