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PRICE/COST Reviews : “Who are your musical influences?” Ah, the all too common interview question that always trickles its way into discussions and reviews, eventually leading to boring comparisons that snowball into internet mud-slinging. Thank god for a project like Carta, whose self-proclaimed influences include dead crustaceans, rusty nails, and girls on trains. While those may not hint at the exact sound this once bedroom-project elicits, two names also included on the above-referenced list of influences -- Anna Kavan and Atom Egoyan -- will at least clarify what atmosphere the band creates. Not exactly household names, a little research reveals the deceased British author (Kavan) and the enigmatic filmmaker (Egoyan) share two common traits that also characterize The Glass Bottom Boat: isolation and alienation. Spearheaded by Kyle Monday, who gathered together a collective of musicians to translate his dreams into audible fragments, Carta swells with a plush, yet almost claustrophobic sound that wraps its ghostly fingers around the listeners, tugging at their apprehensions. Not entirely frozen, the soundtrack streams occasional rays of light that tease the listeners and encourage them to simply lay back and give themselves up to the current of sound dripping from the headphones. The initial track, “Kavan,” after the obvious influence, lays the groundwork for an album built on quiet, ambient guitar loops with subtle, brass infusion and eclectic solo string-work. The song focuses on slow, repetitive patterns that seem entirely delicate on their own, but grow confident over its course, slowly reeling listeners in without permission. It’s like walking in a soft drizzle that slowly transforms into a major rainstorm. You never notice the weather change, but realize upon returning home that you’re soaking wet. Gently morphing into a subtle, jazzy mood on “South Circular” and “Larva,” the guitar lines remain the focal point, while percussion makes its first appearance, albeit firmly in the background. The loops remain, but there’s a shift in temper here, both tracks arching their backs like a lazy Sunday morning, welcoming warmth through the bedroom window. The drums tin up on “Larva,” and a quiet guitar and string duo smooth out any rough edges left by the prior tracks. Like an invisible anchor on the eyelids, “Burning Bridges” and “Simultane” are massive in their approach to quietness; bleached out percussion tumbles in the background while a somber orchestra dressed in black free their sound like a runaway kite. An odd, but overwhelmingly enjoyable combination of depth and joy, the track leaves your body with a humble impression of happiness. This sensation carries over into the following two songs, before being eclipsed by the final and standalone title track. Reverting back to Kavan and Egoyan, the album up to this point plays like a collection of eclectic, short stories, each with their distinct personality that quietly guard an underlying and unifying theme. The songs are completely listenable on their own, alienated from each other, but it’s not until final 12 minute track is experienced that things really click together. Almost as if the entire album was a red herring, the last piece introduces haunting female vocals that illustrate what exactly it was that laid in the silence between each prior track, effectively yanking the curtain back to reveal the big picture. The crowd of listeners gasps with newfound clarity, “AHHH… now it makes sense!” and goes back to listen to the whole thing again - this time with a newfound appreciation for the skillfully crafted work of Carta. And in a sense, that’s really what makes Carta and The Glass Bottom Boat something to behold. The music itself is not overly complex or complicated and will not peel your eyelids back with ferocity, but rather, like a plot-twisting film or novel identifiable by its lush characters, the album offers a whirlpool of listening experiences over time, each one laced with the promise of a new discovery. SILENTBALLET.COM
It’s a shame that just when I get the opportunity to review Carta’s majestic debut, “The Glass Bottom Boat”, their record label Resonant decides to call it a day. Still, the nine instrumentals and one vocal based track featured here have brought some much needed colour and warmth to these cold, unfeeling winter months. The brainchild of San Franciscan guitarist Kyle Monday, who has called upon his close knit community of musician friends to record a vision that has been in the works since 2002. Members of Charles Atlas and Subtle feature prominently, as Monday directs his troupe through a series of trance-like grooves. There is a panoramic quality to Carta’s musicianship with a perfect balance found between the guitars, piano, percussion and the string and brass instrumentation. No musician takes centre stage; each member has a part to play in the overall picture. The elliptical guitar part on “Legomenon”, for example, forms part of the rhythm whereas other bands prefer to place the guitar centre stage. The old adage, there is no I in team comes to mind, as this sentiment echoes loudly within Carta’s rich, almost impregnable tapestry of sound. The interplay between the trio of guitarists on both “Kavan” and “If Not for You Then Not for Me” sets the mood for much of the album. All three are content to play delicate, subtle chord sequences, complimenting one another rather than fighting to be heard. Often times, each part is layered intriguingly, creating arrangements that are alluringly off-kilter and sit slightly to the left of standard rock progressions. Such reciprocity is the thread that holds Carta’s wandering compositions together. Of particular interest are the songs that start sparsely but end up in more aggressive areas towards their end. The brooding “South Circular” is a prime example, as is the fluid “Perdido”, with the band displaying a telepathic understanding of each others movements. You can imagine Carta performing these live, all it needs is a slight nod from Monday and the band shift tempo unanimously with the greatest of ease. Building a chilled atmosphere over several minutes, Carta depart to a more energetic momentum on the former as guitars gain urgency with light distortion in tandem with the incrementally aggressive percussion. “Olivia”, meanwhile, is notable for the way it sounds as if it was deliberately recorded just out of earshot, the muffled percussion and spectral guitar textures complimenting the album’s intriguing artwork that seems to display a distant, forgotten land. The magical title track is undoubtedly the highlight (though other reviews wrongly point out it disrupts the flow of the album). It shows that Carta are not perennially concerned with instrumentals and are comfortable in any number of guises. Starting with a gorgeous pattern of clockwork-like guitar notes sweetened by aching cello, Sarah Bell’s beautiful, elfin vocals are simply breath-taking and must come with a guarantee to send shivers running towards the small of your back. It is all geared towards a grand finale, as all members of the band come together culminating into an almost shoegaze style encore. Bereft of the torrents of distortion most instrumental acts like to use, gimmicky solo parts or over-blown, theatrical vocals, Carta’s compositions are classy and elegant. Many bands hide their limitations under clouds of effects. But then few bands can play like Carta; their progressive, predominantly instrumental music is effortlessly a cut above the rest. ANGRYAPE.COM
Resonant aren't half churning them out at the moment, what with the recent Small Sails, Port Royal and Stafraenn Hakon albums all causing a stir. This latest venture comes from Carta, a group comprising Subtle's Alexander Kort and Jared Matt Greenberg of Charles Atlas. A close point of reference would be Hood, particularly on the moody sonic vistas conjured up on 'Simultane' and 'South Circular', there's something yet more earthy and organic about tracks like 'Perdido' and the swooping Rachel's-style opener 'Kavan'. Taking an entirely different path is the title track, which features an Espers-style dark folk theme, largely thanks to the Meg Baird-alike vocals by Sarah Bell. As the song gathers steam (it clocks in at almost 12 minutes) a unfolding sense of shoegaze texture builds up, distancing the whole affair from its initially quite rustic beginnings, until by its end there's screeching distortion flying about all over the place. Another fine entry into Resonant's rapidly expanding catalogue of forward-thinking post-rock. BOOMKAT.COM
Any group deciding to make a foray into the realm of instrumental post-rock has to know that they’re going into what’s essentially a saturated market, one in which it will be very difficult to differentiate themselves from the countless Mogwai and Godspeed You Black Emperor! clones who beat them there. However, San Francisco’s Carta do stick out from the crowd. But unlike many of their peers, they abstain, for the most part, from the usual clichés and standards of the genre. That is to say, you won’t find too many slowburning build-ups in which guitars churn and string arrangements slowly move towards critical mass until the entire band erupts in an apocalyptic climax. Something which, quite frankly, has been played out quite a bit over the past few years. Rather, like acts such as Unwed Sailor, Windsor For The Derby, and Early Day Miners, Carta take a much more subdued direction. The focus here isn’t on sturm und drang, or trying to overwhelm the listener with one grandiose arrangement after another. Instead, the nine musicians who make up Carta (on this release, anyways) focus instead on simply crafting strong, intricately layered songs that are just that—songs, and not merely epic-length, multi-movement compositions. The albums begins with one its highlights, the seven-minute “Kavan”, which immediately sets forth Carta’s modus operandi. Layers of delicately picked guitar melodies, sparse piano melodies, trumpet, cello, and solid percussion all merge and weave in and out of eachother in a manner that is much greater than the sum of its parts (though the individual parts are lovely in and of themselves). There’s absolutely nothing flashy or overwhelming about the song, but it nevertheless winds it way effectively into the listener’s heart and mind. The flourishes—a lonesome trumpet drifting over the music’s surface, a few piano grace notes here and there—are never grandiose, but are no less effective. Indeed, they’re more effective because they aren’t grandiose, but rather subtle and unassuming, drawing the listener in slowly but surely. Occasionally, on tracks like “Larva”, the band picks up the pace. The drums kick up their feet a bit more, and the layered guitars move a little more deftly as they circle about the listener. However, the overall relaxed, mellow pace of the album isn’t upset as a result. Most of the album consists of songs like “Kavan”, the lethargic, cello-led “Burning Bridges”, and “Simultane” and “Perdido”, which recall Hood circa The Cycle Of Days And Seasons (which is about as high a compliment as I can pay). Also worth noting is that the guitarists—Kyle Monday, Jason Perez, and Raymond Welter—don’t place too much reliance on their effects pedals. Or at least they very skillfully hide any such reliance. Sure, you might hear some delay here and some reverb there, but one doesn’t get the sense that Monday et al. are hunched over dozens of pedals strewn across the floor, trying to find just the right combination to blow the listener’s mind (and eardrums). If there’s perhaps one word that I can use to describe Carta’s music on The Glass Bottom Boat, it would be “pure”. Whether it’s the focus on honest-to-God songwriting (rather than simply trying to create set-ups for yet another epic, apocalyptic climax) or the lack of reliance on such things as guitar effects to communicate emotion, there’s a sense of purity and simplicity, and of solid craftsmanship throughout the album. There are certainly louder, more grandiose acts out there in the world of instrumental post-rock, but there are few whose music actually sticks out to me—and Carta is one of them. OPUSZINE.COM
The story of how
Carta’s debut came to be is nearly as interesting as the music itself.
Carta has existed in various incarnations since 2002, yet the recording
of this album did not begin until 2005. Completed in 2006, this album
represents not only the work of nine different musicians, but also a
group hiatus and subsequent reformation with new members. At any rate,
Carta seems to have triumphed in the face of adversity. Truly, the
results of all of the time and effort seem quite positive, as “The
Glass Bottom Boat” delivers some beautiful, melodic post-rock. FOXY DIGITALIS
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