Review

Duncan Park has been putting out consistently excellent lo-fi psychedelic folk since at least the early 2010s. Much of that early work, however, is no longer available online.

The logic in that checks out, though — a definite shift occurred in late 2017 with the release of his album After the Earth Has Burned. Whereas prior releases had seen Park experimenting with a number of different styles and techniques, After the Earth Has Burned found him finally settling into what felt like the right combination of everything he had tried up until that point.

With that said, it’s not as if the experimentation stopped dead in its tracks; much of that album’s thick and suffocating drone-metal-styled backing guitars have rarely been heard again since, and Park has instead adapted his playing to suit every new release. An album such as 2020’s Umbilo Primitive was recorded to reflect the sounds and atmosphere of its titular suburb in Durban, South Africa, whereas last year’s late December release, Canticles of the Sourveld, did the same for the country’s Eastern escarpment landscape.

A second shift in sound seemed to occur, however, with 2023’s Traveller’s Peace. While Park has continued to put out releases of all different kinds, including those that cover more familiar territory, Traveller’s Peace saw both the lo-fi and experimental aspects of his work taken to their extremes. The decision to record directly to cassette, along with the inclusion of field recordings and possibly the most diverse lineup of instruments he’s ever had, led to a truly unique listening experience, even across his vast discography.

This finally brings us to Path to the Gallows, Park’s latest effort. It seems as though the recordings themselves date back to late 2022/early 2023, which places them even before the official release of Traveller’s Peace. Once again, these songs were recorded to cassette, which aligns it much more closely with that release than last year’s Canticles of the Sourveld. The inclusion of a track such as ‘Talking and Tuning’, which really does what it says on the tin, also brings it spiritually closer to Traveller’s field recordings and shorter song lengths.

For all the excellence to follow, the album opens with its longest and, quite frankly, best track. ‘A Moon Possessed Corpse’ is a 12-and-a-half-minute odyssey that takes the listener on a journey like no other, with some truly outstanding guitar playing (and even dog noises!) guiding you through it. Much of Park’s recent works have been instrumental, and he seems to have really found his voice through his playing, able to tell stories and bring worlds to life without uttering a syllable. ‘A Moon Possessed Corpse’ is, in my opinion, one of his finest creations to date in that regard.

After the aforementioned ‘Talking and Tuning’, we’re brought to ‘Flood Warning’, which sees Park switching over from the guitar to the banjo. This is another song that benefits wonderfully from the warmth of cassette recording, sounding like a vintage piece of lost media. While not as grand in scale as the epic opening track, it’s an evocative piece that carefully continues the momentum of the album. The guitar then makes a return for the brief ‘Allegro Op. 50, No 13’, once again showcasing some impressive playing.

‘Leaving Beeston Blues’ is another mini-epic, with gentle keyboard swells complementing Park’s lovely guitar work. Again, I can’t overstate how much Park’s newfound appreciation for lo-fi recording techniques has enhanced his music, as it’s brought a wonderful richness to the environments he creates through his playing. ‘Thistle on the South Coast’ again brings to mind some of the shorter cuts on Traveller’s Peace, with its rough-around-the-edges recording style (including a moment where Park pauses to clear his throat halfway through). The introduction of the flute on this track also provides a welcome break from the longer guitar-centered pieces.

‘Waltz No. 1’ acts as a gentle lead-in to the closing number ‘Weaver’s Nest’, which sees somewhat of a return to the playing style displayed on the opening track. It’s another song with a 6+ minute runtime, and it uses it to full effect. After the guitar evokes yet another gorgeous natural landscape, ‘Weaver’s Nest’ ends with a minute and a half of tape hiss, wind chimes, and, again, dog noises (!), leading us full circle back to the start of ‘A Moon Possessed Corpse’. As with all his releases, Park seems to genuinely consider the album as a whole body of work, and it rewards back to front listens, as well as repeat ones.

At this point in his career, it’s hard to single out just one album from Duncan Park to call his best; I’m certainly drawn to the heavy drone of After the Earth Has Burned, but almost equally so to the lush soundscapes of Canticles of the Sourveld, or the brief, found-footage-styled vignettes of Traveller’s Peace. Quite where Path to the Gallows fits in to this vast and varied discography is hard to say, but I am tempted to call it possibly his most focused and fully-realised project to date.

This is an excellent starting point if you’re looking to dive into Park’s work, and ‘A Moon Possessed Corpse’ definitely has my vote as a song to check out if lo-fi instrumental folk sounds like something you’d be interested in.