Bhutan by way of North Carolina musician Tashi Dorji plays his acoustic guitar like you or I handle snakes: mostly very carefully, but sometimes with unintentional jerks. That’s not to say there isn’t a hypnotic quality to his playing — the delicate fretwork undulates from segment to segment, sometimes whipping around to try to sink its fangs into your arm, other times winding its way through the underbrush looking for unaware rodents. Sometimes pegs get tuned — it’s that kind of tape.
It’s also the kind of tape that welcomes the morning sun peeking over the horizon, greeting it with sleepy-eyed enthusiasm and going about its business following a productive all-nighter. It’s workmanlike in its progress, deliberate, yet full of surprises if you’re not ready for them. Dorji’s mind imagines many things at once, racing ahead of his fingers, preparing them for whatever he happens to conjure up in there. Expect to be woefully behind as a listener — but trust me, you can catch up. All you have to do is align your imagination with Dorji’s, and then you’re along for the ride. No need to get discouraged.
Emerge into the light of a new morning with but a night that ends, as all nights end, when the sun rises (Moone Records), and be invigorated. Coast on that morning hit of adrenaline, breathe in the soft air. Also check your arm to make sure you don’t have a snake hanging off of it by its fangs — you might be hallucinating this good feeling, in which case you should summon an ambulance posthaste.
More about: Tashi Dorji
