Until the Point of Hushed Support
(2010, Sonic Pieces)
RIYL = Arvo Part, Peter Broderick, Nico Muhly
It’s been a bit since Mr. Haines’ debut album, Slumber Tides. He was young then, right? We were all like, “OMG, he’s only eighteen?!” I was all like that at least. Now the boy’s back with what I am accepting as his proper follow up four years later and still, how can you not be baffled by neo-classical orchestration of this caliber coming from a twenty-two year old? Goodness gracious me. Just give me a second to try and clear out all my ageist apprehensions. There. So, in spite of everything I’ve just written – and I would mention this regardless – Until the Point of Hushed Support is marvelously mature in stature. A cordial being on the surface – tall, mannered, perhaps with a long coat over his suit – the album operates slowly, coldly and in an unexpected twist, murderously. At least it’s murdered me. Amidst its slender, ringing tones I conceive slender fish-cold hands reaching out from the tall man in order to extract my insides; to hollow me. It's hollowing music. Until the Point of Hushed Support is a back alley endeavor, though not the grimy sort. This is high-class crime, bred of meticulousness and artistry. That which takes place behind the opera house. Even as a victim, the cold, fingered extraction of the soul is of the most beautiful theater. Blood is black is minimal is frozen now. The tall man takes special efforts to comfort you as you drift away. Before suitcasing your life. And the drift, that final ascending lift, resonantes more gorgeously than life ever seemed to. It’s a minimalist affair, but for those patient few who find their way through the expanses of Until the Point of Hushed Support, allowing their movements, their consciousness and all, to be strung for puppeting, the results are breathtakingly beautiful.