Buoy had its origins appear half a decade ago at National Sawdust, a nonprofit music venue in Brooklyn at a concert curated by Laurie Anderson and Arto Lindsay. The seeds composer, electronic musician, and violinist Matt McBane planted at this show were strong enough to blossom into something more; in time, this concert would breed not just his first primarily electronic album, but also the first record that was made and performed entirely by the Brooklyn composer. Not only does he play a variety of analog synthesizers (modular and fixed), violin, piano, and bass guitar, McBane also produced Buoy. Like an attentive gardener, he nurtured the seeds from bud to flower.
And the care shows too. Buoy is more concise than his previous album Bathymetry, and though it plays with a slighter wider palette of instruments, its vision seems clearer, which in turn makes it easier to get hooked in by. Buoy is a record to sink into though, an often balmy bath of synths that swirls around you softly. Opening track “Eleven By Eleven” establishes the mood: a drum machine quietly chatters in the background as warm synth tones weave in and out of focus. Elsewhere, on “Absence”, light, airy pulses of ambience oscillate beneath a ponderous piano while “Addition” brings an ominous air as notes seem to chase each other, tones falling in the frame before falling away again.
There’s plenty that’s evocative here too, which helps McBane’s music feel cozy and familiar. The title track is the album’s first introduction of the violin, and it’s smooth, like wind over a rolling, grassy landscape; edited and echoing notes sound like birds calling out across shore, and the whole thing brings to mind Jeremiah Chiu and Marta Sofia Honer’s 2022 collaborative record Recordings from the Åland Islands. The fizzy, toybox-like synths on “Gleam” conjure memories of múm’s early work, buoyant and charming at the same time. “VCV Chaconne” takes the titular composition technique – “a series of four-bar loops, each of which follows a broadly similar harmonic outline” – and creates both an eerie soundtrack to a sci-fi dystopia film with its concrete grey synth tones and a Tim Hecker-like cut with the industrial distortion that devours the centre of the track. The once serene garden is replaced with a wearied, worn, and ragged landscape that offers little in the way of warmth or comfort.
“VCV Chaconne” is also an example of how McBane works best with some time to splay out and explore. His tracks have a way of transforming across time, even if the elements appear to remain mostly the same throughout. “VCV Chaconne” becomes hollowed out by its end, and while “Addition” does feel like something of an academic exercise, the manner in which it creates tension with the same notes as textures play up against each other is fascinating to listen to. “Apreggiator” is the best example of this, an eight-plus minute virtuosic exploration of violin against synths; the patterns move from three to four to five arpeggiated notes as the track builds dizzying tension that eventually wanes. McBane admits it’s a “feat of stamina and concentration imitating the machine-generated notes” but the sublime tonal play of the two instruments makes you wish it swirled around for even longer.
That Buoy had its origins at an event curated by Laurie Anderson feels apt. Her influence bleeds into the way McBane plays his violin, from the ponderous stretched streaks on the title track, to the reeling continuous notes on “Appreggiator”, to the rustic folk music feel of final track “Turn Around Again” set against a vocoder-like voice. But while McBane takes influence from others, his voice shines through at the best moments. His synth tones may sound familiar across the album, but he finds interesting and attractive things to do with them. Buoy may lure us from the proverbial garden out to the sea, but fittingly it always provides a floating nest to call home.
