Prairiewolf

Quickly becoming one of my favorites for late nights and early mornings, Colorado trio Prairiewolf return with a sophomore album that expands their mix of kosmiche, ambient country, and spiritual jazz. Atop the silken slink of an Ace Tone FR-3, rocking each song with an unseen hand, the band crafts a catalog that’s caught somewhere between the moment when smoke curls around the wind and when it dissipates into the infinite. On their debut, the band captured the biomechanical melt of A.R. & Machines, imagining a world where Reichel had been playing Alice Coltrane covers with Bruce Langhorne. They don’t shirk those signifiers on Deep Time, but they don’t repeat the past either.

Deep Time finds the band crawling further and farther into the quasar blink of the kosmiche side of their catalog. The record holds a steady pulse, but softens the edges, melting their motorik moments into languid pools rippling like Capillary waves towards the horizon. Erwin’s synths and mellotron take the lead this time around, dipping the record in a dampness that had been present on the last record but that wraps around Deep Time with a comforting closeness. Where the eponymous LP set the band on a journey into outer reaches of a dying sun, now the band gets right into the heart, mapping the new intersections of cosmic country and space jazz. It’s easy to get lost in the cocoon that’s been constructed by Prariewolf, tracing the pulses that from on the lens of the mind. My advice is, “don’t fight it.” Headphones on. Safe travels.

Support the artist. Buy it HERE.