In the right here and the right now, Constant Green marks Matt Christensen‘s return to Miasmah. In the actual music, though, another time calls out and sings, decades old, so far in the distance it’s not even visible in the rear-view mirror. Christensen’s bone-dry, country-inspired songs are given drops of hydration in its ghosts of reverb, which linger like distant summer-vacation-days. An electric guitar also helps to echo in another, distant time, where summer evenings spread themselves over the town, and the humidity remained high well into the night.
In these songs, an unrivalled freedom can be found: it’s the sound of a roaming road trip, taken long ago, clouds of dust puffing up and splinters of dried mud sticking to the wheels. An innocent time, and one where a return is impossible, as the intervening years have created too wide a gulf. Of course, this creates a vague melancholia, along with an understanding and a half-acceptance of how things are, and this seeps into the vocals.
Christensen tells the truth; he’s honest in his songs and in his songcraft, and nothing is hidden here. The guitar flickers in and out with a tremolo effect, glinting intermittently like a slant of Summer sunshine; the shades are on and the radio is tuned. No worries can taint the horizon.
Sparse but full of meaning, Christensen says what needs to be said, and there’s absolutely no filler. Introspective and reflective, Constant Green remains appreciative of the journey, singing both its ups and downs.