Essentially the one-man-band project of Italian musician Andrea Vascellari, Firetail clearly follows a “less is more” theory of composition. A fine showcase for Vascellari’s production abilities, the group’s music is very minimalistic in nature and generally fits in well with what I might expect from the ambient music genre. 2015 compilation So Far assembles everything that Vascellari has done under the Firetail moniker (he also performs under the name of Lullabier), much of which has a noticeable post-rock quality since it plays similarly to what one hears in the background of tracks from groups like Godspeed You! Black Emperor. This album won’t appeal to mainstream tastes, but it’s very solid for what it is – a fact that probably shouldn’t have shocked me since it was Firetail who produced one of 2014’s better Christmas-themed Silber Records albums.
The by-and-large soothing So Far compilation begins with “End=Beginning,” a piece built around a pulse of yearning melody played on a twangy guitar. The pleasantly lazy strumming gurgles out of and fades away into a humming background, occasionally interrupted by a heavily echoed horn. Aptly-titled and airy followup “Floating Around” is propelled by a swirling undercurrent that almost suggests drifting along on a slowly ebbing and flowing sea. Despite again having an aching feel to its melodic elements, this second piece is very peaceful and serene before it gives way to the noticeably louder and comparably more substantial “Calculator.” To me, this third track sounds less obviously earthy than the opening pair and is perhaps more in line with the nearly mystical ambient sections found in so-called “epic rock.” Bellowing out over groaning lower tones, the melody here actually builds to something at certain times instead of just sounding nice, making this piece feel more purposeful than what was heard previously on the album.
Slightly more solemn with brief bits of guitar thrown in to add subtle accents to the droning main melody, the lackadaisical “Ajax” is agreeable enough as relaxing background tone even if nothing much happens during its ten minute running time. Meanwhile, “Narcolepsy” is the only track on the compilation that was previously unreleased and (perhaps unsurprisingly, given the title) the only one that’s genuinely unsettling to listen to. Abruptly stopping and starting throughout, the piece contains a unnerving mixture of found sound (car alarms, distant children playing, cawing birds) and shrill, grinding and whirring industrial-like noise, effectively capturing the semi-conscious state that would exist in people with the titular medical condition. Despite unleashing a sense of quiet despair, it finishes with an almost hopeful conclusion which ensures it fits in context with the rest of the album. Penultimate number “The Forest Album by Alan Sparhawk,” with its layers of echoed, gentle guitar, is more clearly musical than most everything else here and the album concludes with the experimental sound art of “Little Droner Boy.”
As might be obvious, Firetail’s work possesses minimal value for those who thrive on the active listening experiences that popular music provides. Even to those more familiar with minimalist composition and experimental sounds, So Far might be a love it or hate it affair. Few of the tracks here seem to really go anywhere; they more seek to create a specific atmosphere for the listener to soak up and bask in, eventually ending without much fanfare. Perhaps the best thing I could say about this work then is that it’s quite somnolent, and although that might sound condescending, it’s actually meant as a compliment. The precise way in which this completely inoffensive and frequently meditative material is constructed makes the whole of the album very dreamlike and surreal, even if I don’t think I could quite put it on the same level as something like Popul Vuh. Regardless, I found myself enjoying So Far and I suspect open-minded listeners would, at the very least, not mind listening to it.