Written by: Dave Cantrell

If we’re honest with ourselves, we’ll admit that those things that move us the most, reach most deeply into our psyches, our hearts, our fears and/or desires, do not do so of a sudden. Even the so-called ‘flash of inspiration,’ ‘flash of genius,’ ‘flash of call-it-what-you-will,’ is the result of a thousand thousand preceding moments, tiny unnoticed-at-the-time bits of epiphany that eventually Lego themselves into something of an “Aha!” construction that as often as not leads to some level of actual epiphany, be it one that simply gladdens the mind or, in however small a way perhaps, actually changes the course of one’s life. We bring all that up for a couple of – somewhat interconnected  – reasons. One is the kind of intrinsically implied patience the above process requires to see it through, the cumulative nature of it all, a process that by its nature is not unlike the making of art itself, be it visual, audio, or in the form of words being feverishly written down in the ill-lit kitchen of a run-down two-bit squat. Those ‘flashes’ mentioned above notwithstanding, it’s a grind, one that despite the drag implied in the word is gratifying just about beyond measure. It is, in fact, so much emotionally akin to being in love – they both taunt you with promise, both are capable if not guaranteed to drive you into a crouch in the corner as you swear you’ll do anything to keep it flowing, and they are both in fact products of the divine – that the line between them is easy to blur. And for two? It struck us here at SEM that it would be, well, helpful at least if not outright gratfiying to have soundtracks to those gently eventful occasions, a score that would, umm, underscore their almost out-of-body nature. Lest you think we’re overthinking this, consider the track at hand, a piece that, despite its by-definition ruminative nature nonetheless thrills, that through its tantalizing four minutes forty-five seconds leaves the listener suspended in that place where the mundane equates with that same divine, gliding through its allotted time like a wraith in loose-fitting silk, somehow seeming to promise a peace, however haunted, in its very movement. And again, it’s that dichotomy, isn’t it, that paradox that delicately feeds the tension inherent that, without the offer of any explicit intent, still manages to bring the flow of the existential into play. No wonder we can’t stop refreshing the damn video. Every time it floats past us we’re mesmerized by it in ways not easily articulated, which, for a room full of writers, is intriguing to say the least. At which point, rather perplexed in the most exquisite way, we turn to the authors responsible and whatever other incidental details since at least there we have your basic, just-the-facts-ma’am tangible.

Seeing as a solid third of the seventeen or so pieces SEM has published covering Bonner Kramer’s own personal musical output (as opposed to dozen plus that were produced by the guy and/or shepherded into existence via the legendary – and seemingly immortal – ‘label that could’ Shimmy-Disc) tack toward the ambient, it would be disengenuous of us to suggest we’re caught unawares by the aesthetic shimmer of “The Calling” and in fact, at this point given his trend toward the moodier side of the spectrum, it would be surprising were it not of this nature. What does – and cannot help – surprise is the extent to which the phrase ‘unassuming beauty,’ when applied to this track, has seldom felt so inadequate. And again, though we’ve become accustomed to Kramer’s fluency in this floating realm, it’s nevertheless the case that here, in partnership with the astonishing talent that is Kato Hideki, we’re floored, we’re astonished, we’re lost in something of a wonderment, not least at the basic fact that, among all that has come prior, this outing with Hideki may well rank as the most accomplished, which given this particular partner’s résumé (click that link above), can’t really come as a shock.

Just released today in advance of full-length The Walk arriving August 23rd via (of course) Shimmy-Disc, the video, with its red sun luminescence, its layered, end-of-day apparitional feel reflecting what, from our vantage anyway, brings a sense of alluring ominousness that borders on, if not lays directly across, the deeply cinematic (a quality we feel this ‘genre’ – terribly inadequate word – must inevitably evoke and that Kramer and those he’s partnered with have unfailingly nailed), “The Calling” is, in its quiet, determined way, breathtaking. Were it their intention to summon in image and sound the inscrutability of this too-swift passage through consciousness, days like phantoms falling forever behind us into the blinding silence of memory, it’s rather impossible to imagine a more redolant, more poignant result. What amazes, then, in the end, is the level of spellbinding joy we find settling upon us once, with a dramatic delicacy, the track quick-fades over the horizon. Equally amazing? This thing, as mentioned, is nearly five minutes long yet, every time I’ve hit replay, that final descent back into office silence seems to have come, umm, of a sudden, thus throwing into question the very premise of this piece as stated up top, which, surely, is exactly what we ask of art. [pre-order The Walk LP here, pre-save on various platforms here] [feature photo: Jeremy Amar]