William Brittelle

William Brittelle, photo by Ryan Jensen

As I suspected, much of the interesting work in new composition is being done in the field of art song, and the Mohair Time Warp album by William Brittelle is a notable addition. Brittelle is not unlike Violette in that he is pulling it all in, but instead of processing the pop through the academic, Brittelle reverses that by creating little genius pop concertos - playing a hand filled with Broadway, 00's everything rock, 90's indie rock, 80's hard rock, 70's light rock, and polite contemporary chamber music crafted largely from piano, subtle electric rhythm guitar, flute and strings. His manic vocal style hugs the melody like a stock car does the inner edge of the track to pick up speed and ramp up the danger. Like much of the art song I'm encountering, Britelle's music is undeniably pretty, but Brittelle ups the ante on sweet Evan Lurie autumnal noodling by making it kinetic and grand, keeping it at the end of its leash. The ecstatic joy in "Hey Panda" cleared up my sinuses. "Hieroglyphics Baby" reveals where the Pavement really leads to should you be in shape for so long a walk. "Cakewalk to the Multiplex" raises the Animal Collective's hushed shout to an alert. Delirious, delicious stuff.

Dig, if you will, "Terror-Dactyl" - It's like Spandau Ballet gone gloriously mad Robert Palmer-style


or the majestic spires of "Acropolis, What Did I Expect?"

If you like Sufjan Stevens but wished his palette was brighter and more extensive, Brittelle might be your guy. It's like XTC in residence at the BAM. A little night music meets Night Ranger in the forgotten dressing room of the university black box theatre of the soul.


William Britelle's site

Mohair Time Warp - William Bri...