Meteorology, the solo ambient post-rock project from Renaissance man Brett Fieldcamp, debuts its first album, “Every Last Monday,” with a release show this Saturday at 7 p.m. at Mycelium Gallery in Oklahoma City.
To those who have attended Jarvix’s Weirder Wednesday and its past incarnations of showcasing the best in the weird and strange of Oklahoma, you may recognize some of the songs.
You would have been exposed to the protoplasm that “Every Last Monday” emerges from and seen the tools from which the album was built.
At his feet are usually pedals, cables, and a pad that enables him to play synth and bass while he wields a guitar. The act of recording was just so the songs could be studied and repeated.
The album begins with “Start Where You Are,” which feels like a call to listeners and a description of the song’s beginning, which is at first bare with a simple kick drum pattern followed by melodic guitar playing.
The song builds piece by piece, but about halfway through it peels itself back to just a synth pattern that could be the dial tone of a phone from the future.
And then each element of drum, bass, and most especially, makes its triumphant return. We have started now.
The next track, “A Bird with Six Wings,” is a meditative exercise in symbiotic guitar riffs. In isolation, the melodies drift along on a bed of synthetic melancholy, but like the wings of that bird, the guitars begin to soar with each subsequent loop.
The effects-laden guitar will go from a tone that’s as light as a feather to one as sharp as a razor’s edge.
So it is very noticeable when the next track begins with the guitar farther back in the mix.
“Where the Walls are Thin” feels just like so, invoking a feeling of encroaching paranoia that you’re not alone, and only builds through the song.
The soaring guitar tone that grabs you by the heart in the previous songs are twisted and distant. Near the end, as the guitar fades, the song morphs into a funeral-like dirge that too fades away into static.
The album ends on a truly beast of a song, “Competitive Martyrdom,” named perhaps in what a herculean task it must be to perform 26 minutes in length, the song on its own is nearly half of the total album.
The first half is a driving, pulsating chug of guitar, like something Ryan Gosling’s character in Drive would put on while going through a long highway tunnel.
Halfway through the song, you’re out of the tunnel. And it’s raining. The shimmering guitar notes fall like intermittent patches of rain in April.
And then just as quick as you had left the tunnel, you’re back in. And this time, sci-fi cops with strange-sounding sirens are chasing you. But just as you think you can’t get away, you think they’re closing in on you, and there’s no possible way out, you’ve made your escape.
It’s grand and cinematic but in the most Lynchian sort of way.
The album continuously evolves. As the footsteps of each new melody wash away, it makes way for some new element, a change in beat or guitar riff, or some small synth flourish that culminates in a satisfying end.
While the album captures what it is like to hear Meteorology live, that’s perhaps its biggest fault.
The tapestry of post-rock ambience, sewn together with neon Pink Floyd guitar thread,is something that demands to be seen to be believed.
It doesn’t seem possible that just one man can be playing it all. Yet, he does and will.
Meteorology will be performing in collaboration with 3D art projectionist Luke Lightfoot.
EDITOR’S NOTE — Every week, Brett Fieldcamp does an amazing job of featuring the creative work of local bands. So, for the debut performance of his first album, and over Brett’s objections, I insisted that we run a story and recruit another entertainment writer to do it. Welcome, Matthew Viriyapah! — Brett Dickerson
Matthew Viriyapah covers music, books and local events in Oklahoma. You can find him where there's live music.
