Kashgar III is a record that thrives on tension — not the explosive kind, but the slow, grainy friction that accumulates as ideas are layered, tested, and allowed to breathe. It unfolds less like a collection of discrete pieces and more like a continuous environment, one in which timbre and pacing carry as much narrative weight as melody or harmony. It feels like the work of a collective that's deeply in tune with one another's musical instincts — not just a band, but a chamber of distinct voices shaping a unified sonic world. At its centre is Marcus Taylor — guitarist, bassist, keyboardist and rhythmic architect — whose compositions thread together jazz, rock, and world-inflected motifs with both compositional clarity and improvisational freedom. Alongside him, Ben Bell (Gandalf's Fist, Patchwork Cacophony) on Hammond organ and other keyboards provides a harmonic and textural bedrock that ranges from shimmering modal washes to gritty, call-and-response punctuations. Bell's contributions are rare in modern fusion — not merely chordal support, but an active conversational partner, shaping energy and colour from within the arrangements. Underpinning it all is James Chapman's drumming, which anchors the grooves with a precise attention to dynamics and space. With guest appearances by progressive cello virtuoso Raphael Weinroth-Browne, Steffen Davidson on saxophone and Indo-Jazz singer supreme Jaasmaan Rathore, the Kashgar sound hits another level. Together, these musicians shape Kashgar III into something that feels both crafted and alive, a record where compositional intent and spontaneous interplay aren't opposing forces but complementary axes of expression. There's a quiet confidence in the way the ensemble listens — to each other and to the spaces between the notes — and that's what gives the album its quiet but persuasive power. At its core, the album is built around patient, modular construction. Repeating figures — often simple, almost ritualistic — are gradually destabilised by subtle shifts in emphasis: a rhythmic cell elongates, a harmonic centre softens or drifts, a previously supportive texture moves into the foreground. There's a clear lineage here to minimalist and post-minimalist traditions, but Kashgar III resists the clean lines of classic minimalism, favouring instead a more weathered, organic surface. The music feels lived-in, even slightly frayed at the edges, which gives it a quietly human quality. Performance is crucial to the album's impact. There's an attentiveness in the playing that suggests deep listening between the musicians — entrances feel negotiated rather than imposed, and silences are treated as active elements rather than gaps to be filled. This lends the record a strong sense of collective intention, even when the music drifts into abstraction. You get the sense that restraint is a deliberate choice, not a limitation. Production-wise, Kashgar III benefits from a clear but unpolished soundstage. Instruments are given space to resonate naturally, with room tone and decay playing a significant role in shaping the overall atmosphere. Nothing is over-compressed or overly sculpted; instead, the production allows the material's inherent textures to speak for themselves. This transparency reinforces the album's slow-burn character — the more time you spend with it, the more detail reveals itself. In terms of influence, echoes of European free improvisation, early ECM-era spaciousness, and even the more introspective end of krautrock's repetitive hypnosis can be felt, though the album never settles into pastiche. If anything, Kashgar III feels like a conversation between those traditions, filtered through a contemporary sensibility that values ambiguity and process over resolution. Ultimately, this is not a record that demands attention so much as it rewards it. Kashgar III asks the listener to slow down, to engage with sound as a physical and temporal experience. In doing so, it offers something increasingly rare: music that trusts both its own material and its audience enough to leave space — for doubt, for reflection, and for discovery. **** David Carswell Where to buy? |
