Written by: Dave Cantrell

Sometimes you read into things. On It’s Immaterial, Chris Stewart’s first record as Black Marble since breakout debut A Different Arrangement in 2012 (his/their arrival having already been intriguingly signaled by EP Weight Against the Door earlier that year), it’s difficult, once you’re into the meat of the album starting with second track “Iron Lung,” not to interpret short opener “Interdiction,” which sounds not a little like the tailing end of a vintage video game allowed to go to the extreme lengths of its digital angst and anguish, as something of a musical emotional palate cleanser, a 70-second synth-crazed burst of id intended to wipe the slate clean. Not because what follows is a dramatic stylistic departure – on the contrary; Stewart’s still trafficking in the same synth-popped post-punk seductions as turned all our heads in the first place – but rather its predominant tone. There’s more light shining in now. The marble’s just as black but one perceives more of a gleam reflecting off its surface.

While always considerably agile in Black Marble’s (different) arrangements, on the tracks from that debut those four long years ago a somber undercurrent could be sensed, as if the machines and artist alike were plugged into an algorithm of melancholy. Which, naturally, we loved and embraced, seeing as many of us are often happiest inside a swirl of shadows. It did, however, give that album, if inadvertently, something close to a chill-out vibe, whereas the feel that permeates It’s Immaterial connotes to an earlier hour, to, say, that time when evening shifts imperceptibly into night, halogen streetlamps exuding possibility and something innately buoyant animating the room. Doubt, everyone’s constant companion and nemesis, still floats in the dimmer corners overhead but at least there’s a chance it’ll be held at bay for an hour or two.

That second track “Iron Lung,” punchy dark of bass, a layered-on guitar sprightly economic of melody, exhibits the record’s brand of shaded exuberance from the off, Stewart’s vocal, somewhat more upfront as it is throughout, imparting that note of cautious hopefulness also known as yearning. It’s the type track where the apparent perk of its tempo could suggest some synth-wave cousin of Fujiya & Miyagi were it not for that edgy edge of restraint tugging ever-so-subtly from deep inside the thing’s heart. Such a balancing act can be a tricky tension to maintain yet Stewart dances along that tightrope with a Man on Wire–like assurance.

“It’s Unconditional” converts “Bela Lugosi’s Dead”‘s ping-echo opening into a gently relentless thrum with dusky sunset textures, first video “Woods” posits a bucolic Kraftwerk coasting along a rural road, the autobahn a ways back in the rearview, while the brisk, effervescent, tripping-forward pace of the well-named “Frisk,” carrying the fatalist lilt of Stewart’s voice as if it’s weightless, makes for a downtempo mini-masterpiece made lively by the digital neon restlessness of our times. Somewhat inversely, both “Golden Heart” and “Portland U” appear on their respective horizons with a ruminative glow – the first with a dawn brush of warm synth, the second with more of a crepuscular bent as if creeping towards us out of a midnight fog – before submitting to the rhythm at hand, in “..Heart”‘s case a motorik pulse punctuated by synth claps, while “Portland U” is a bit slower to commit, passing through a hesitant, pleasantly disjointed phase on its way to adopting a Tolhurstian bassline and a persistent snare, eventually adding up to perhaps the album’s most structurally intriguing piece (though in truth, and as expected, a hard call).

Suspended, then, in those, well, shadowy margins between incipient hope and an abidingly dark wistfulness, we take a listener’s solace in realizing that, for now at least, Chris Stewart would seem to be personally leaning more toward the former, while we simultaneously welcome the continued presence of the latter’s powerful, addictive lure. All emotional scorecards aside, however, It’s Immaterial, rippled with supple melodies atop deftly drawn, intricately woven rhythmic beds, is an undiminishably rewarding listen. I’ve heard it umpteen times already and still I’m pleased to be done with this review so I can return to it uninterrupted, and really, how much stronger of a recommendation do you need?