Wes Swing’s “And the Heart”— The Album That Almost Wasn’t

First off, you can’t go wrong including Paul Curreri and Devon Sproule on any album. I know. Bad taste, starting a review with names of people other than that on an album, but I would have gotten there eventually anyway. I mention those two in reviews which have nothing to do with them, that’s how much respect I have for them. All three share a history, all being denizens of Charlottesville, a town which musician for musician packs a wallop-and-a-half. All three are forces of nature, not just regarding music but especially regarding music. All three belong on Swing’s latest venture, And the Heart, and all three shine in their own ways— Swing as point man— composer/songwriter, vocalist, instrumentalist and visionary; Curreri as producer; Sproule as voice support and undoubtedly positive energy provider. There is a lot of talent packed into those three.

And they don’t waste a bit of it here. Swing knew what he wanted, though he may not have known how to get there at certain times. There aren’t many, when entering a studio, who do. That is partly why there are so many unreleased albums. The artist(s) just never got there. Curreri, though, is nothing if not an adventurer when it comes to music. So is Swing. Both have had to work their ways through injuries— Curreri’s more or less permanent (he has had to set aside his main instrument, guitar, due to a problem with cartilage in his hands), Swing’s temporary (a wrist injury, wrists crucial to the playing of the cello). As Swing put it, “For Paul, I think I can say he’s been on a similar path in the sense that injuries have prevented him from pursuing music like he used to. He’s been switching instruments and moving towards the role of a producer.”

“I quit (music) for about 6 months. Now I’m back at it. It’s a long story, but mostly I had this nagging cello wrist injury. Then there was this feeling that the looping was keeping me too locked in and I felt more expressive on guitar. It was a feeling too of obligation to the instrument and not having it on my own terms. But, as soon as I made the step back into music, my wrist felt better, I enjoyed the cello again, and it hasn’t been an issue since. Like I think I needed to quit so I could come back on my own terms. I think a lot of this album came out of taking time away from music, even the quitting for a bit.

“I quit because I realized that I had defined so much of myself as a musician. I grew up playing classical violin and performing from a very young age and continued that through college and after. I had a wrist injury and was hit by a spell of depression around the same time, and realized that without music, I didn’t know or appreciate myself, and much of my identity was coming from the feedback of others. So quitting was a big deal, but I forced myself to do other things I’d always been interested in: started writing a book of short stories, studied french, and ballet. The time away was really helpful, and when I was ready to jump back in, the songs just came pouring out.

“As I was recording, both Paul and I were trying to make sense out of our individual relationships with music and ended up putting a lot of that into the songs, as well. I felt like his ideas for this record were just amazing. They always seemed to resonate with something I had felt in the songs but hadn’t thought of. I think we were both in the same place, asking ourselves what it mean to be musicians.”

Curreri’s take? “Wes and I enjoyed each other. He was open. He is a sensitive mofo, yet he still stayed open. I often didn’t know what the songs were about but he sang them so unguardedly that it left me feeling inspired to be on the inside, to be trusted.”

The album? Not all of the songs on this album are songs in the typical sense. They are compositions with preludes and segues and arrangements, all pieced together very carefully. In places, they are orchestral without orchestra, They are movements, and they are moving. They take place in that grey area between pop and symphonic when not presented as song. They are surreal and sometimes eerie but also grounded in folk enough that they are not wisps. I was surprised when I first heard them. Everyone who knew him had talked cello, not voice, so when his (basically) alto vocals took precedence, it took me aback. Perhaps I should say aforward because what I heard was more than I had expected. Songs written for aura and feel, couched in just the right amount of electronica— a world inhabited by the likes of Enya and the Clannad of the eighties with pieces of folk/psych and rock thrown in almost as afterthought in some instances.

Examples: “Instrumental 3” stands alone but is more of a segue between “Here I Wait,” in its folk/rock glory, and “Mirrors,” more ethereal and pop. “Rest Easy” is intense, a slanted view seen through a combination of intense electronics and a mens “choir.” “The Next Life” recreates that choir to a small degree before sliding into an outro mixture of electronic beat and chamber orchestra. It is Swing at his present day creative best, most of it over a bedrock of acoustic guitar with fringes of violin and cello. That and his voice— that eerily beautiful, wavering voice.

There is a spirituality about this album. Perhaps that is what Curreri was referring to when he made his comment about inspiration, for there is something uplifting about the music. I have not quite put my finger on it yet, myself, but I will get there. I’m not going anywhere. And I’m not quitting on this album for quite some time, if ever.

This is Wes Swing doing what he does, loops and all. And, yes, the song is from And the Heart.

Release date is June 2nd.