Colorfield Records specializes in putting out surprising albums. You don’t know what to expect as a listener, other than compelling tunes, a high degree of technical proficiency, playful experimentation, and a general sense of friendly collaboration. Rich Hinman’s “Memorial” checks all those boxes and, of course, has more: pedal steel guitar as lead, as structuring element for a number of beautiful jams, as generator of drones and background textures. Hinman has said that “Memorial” features music made with little or no forethought, without preconceived notions of what a song is or should be—and yet these songs all feel so considered and deliberate, a testament to Hinman, producer Pete Min, and their collaborators (Benny Bock, Daniel Rotem, Mark Giuliana, and others).
“Memorial” roughly divides into pensive, meditative songs and more elaborate, sprawling songs. “Slow Drip,” the opening track, falls into the latter category. What a beginning. It opens with pedal steel guitar, piercing and majestic, and a low bass tone, then more keyboards and percussion. Around the 1:50 mark, the track opens up even more, with lively drums from Giuliana and incredible playing from Bock, David Piltch on bass, and Hinman. The intertwining of the pedal steel, keyboards, drums, and bass are almost overwhelmingly pleasant—your ear gets pulled in so many different directions at once, a landscape of beautiful sounds to take in.
“Pool” too is another big track, with Hinman, Giuliana, Piltch, and Daniel Rotem collaborating on a slow-burning jam. Starts off with a slow pulse on piano/keys, with a backwards pulse too, and some good clattering, the sounds of the keys hitting. And then another keyboard comes in on top of the first, and the pedal steel, followed quickly by Rotem’s saxophone, creating rich layers. Around 2:45, there’s a shift, some prominent playing from Piltch, and then Rotem plays some beautiful phrases over both live drums and programmed percussion.
“Sand Storm” is the first of the meditative tracks. This one is buzzing, droney, keyboard-heavy exploration. A nice break after the huge energy of the first two tracks. This one feels a little mournful, maybe, with little eddies of keyboard tones forming and dissipating throughout the track.
“Buddy” is another pensive track, though this one feels more like a prayer or an offering. Almost all pedal steel (and some pump organ), “Buddy” is clear and beautiful, a perfect poem, a handful of stanzas put together and delivered with confidence and purpose. Hinman—incredibly—improvised the pedal steel track in one take.
Just as unbelievable is “The Raising of a Large Barn,” a piece that Hinman mostly improvised on upright piano (and then doubled the melody on guitar), which is accompanied by a string arrangement by fellow Colorfield artist Brad Allen Williams, played by the Section Quartet. It sounds like geometric proof coming together in real time: the standalone axioms of the piano and guitar girded by the connective logic of the strings.
The title track, which is the final track on the album, has it all too: Hinman’s pedal steel, echoing, layered through the tune; blasts of static; clattering and spacey pianos, barely held together. Around 2:40, the pedal steel takes over, among percussive detritus and long-frequency drones, for one of the most emotional stretches of the album. Hinman’s playing here makes the pedal steel seem like it’s reaching, stretching, searching, without resolution. Gorgeous.