The barest hovering of a held note and most minimal of traced finger work, brushes and brassy resonance is enough to conjure up arid vistas, rumination and “sullen” emotions on Blake Edward Conley’s fifth album for the North American label Somewherecold.

The Louisville-based guitarist-composer can convey or draw out deep-held feels, sentiments and remembrance from scarcely rhythmic loops and drones – hence the Droneroom moniker. And whilst recording stations include the arrival/departure lounges of the Soulsville, Memphis TN and Denver International airports – Las Vegas too –, this latest vaporous and resonated transformation pictures mirages on mysterious desert horizons and both McCarthy and Lynch’s supernatural, occult ghosts of the old American West; think Ry Coder as an alternative choice for The Blood Meridian, or, the Gunn-Truscinski duo collaboration scoring Paris, Texas. ‘You Can’t Piss In The Same River Twice’ (sound advice) goes even further in evoking something both alien but recognisable. A filtered, muffled spherical vortex spins around like some off-world portal as Conley picks at and sort of strums a very removed vision of bluegrass on a brassy-resonating banjo.

The barest hovering of a held note and most minimal of traced finger work, brushes and brassy resonance is enough to conjure up arid vistas, rumination and “sullen” emotions on Blake Edward Conley’s fifth album for the North American label Somewherecold.

'The Louisville-based guitarist-composer can convey or draw out deep-held feels, sentiments and remembrance from scarcely rhythmic loops and drones – hence the Droneroom moniker. And whilst recording stations include the arrival/departure lounges of the Soulsville, Memphis TN and Denver International airports – Las Vegas too –, this latest vaporous and resonated transformation pictures mirages on mysterious desert horizons and both McCarthy and Lynch’s supernatural, occult ghosts of the old American West; think Ry Coder as an alternative choice for The Blood Meridian, or, the Gunn-Truscinski duo collaboration scoring Paris, Texas. ‘You Can’t Piss In The Same River Twice’ (sound advice) goes even further in evoking something both alien but recognisable. A filtered, muffled spherical vortex spins around like some off-world portal as Conley picks at and sort of strums a very removed vision of bluegrass on a brassy-resonating banjo.
~Dominic Valvona
monolithcocktail.com/2023/09/01/our-daily-bread-590-violet-noxvortex-and-voices-droneroom-the-best-of-my-love/

"The droneroom experience is centred on Blake Edward Conley’s unbridled capability to make your mind wander.

Now based in Tacoma, Washington, Conley is the architect of compositions that stretch the mind like an elastic band, taking the listener to almost unimaginable places. Essentially, this is where ultimate beauty is found in music.

As we become older, our brain chemistry alters. Coupled with the experience of life and, in some cases, the sheer burden of it, the resulting bumps and scrapes sustained then carried throughout the years means that things take on a whole new meaning.

Intersect this with the power of art, and things become that much more mysterious. Whether it be a band someone has been familiar with and their music reveals a whole new context due to one’s life experiences, or whether it’s music produced from a new face, both aspects have that undeniable ability to unlock the isolated parts of the psyche."

Where new music is concerned, in my opinion, this is the apex moment, simply because of the times we live in. A new world where art has been reduced by immediate culture and the scourge of capitalism; even against this tide, there are certain artists that can find a way to transcend these harsh truths.

Droneroom is one of them.

Conley has experienced another stellar year with four full-length releases under his belt via the droneroom vessel, not to mention a further two excellent collaborations; firstly alongside Peter Fosco as Rabbit Hash, and most recently alongside Nonconnah’s Magpie Corsa as Jesus’ Twin Brother.

In many ways, at least in a creative sense, the latest droneroom dispatch, The Best Part of My Love, ties together Conley’s year with a string of compositions that combine dizzying chaos with undercurrents of serenity. An unease tempered with a meditative aesthetic that runs through the record like the arteries that form a roadmap. And once again, it’s to destination unknown in what is the closest Conley has come to the world of deep listening.

Recently on the Ambient Country podcast with Suss’ Bob Holmes, Conley briefly touched on his anxiousness when playing guitar, and from the outset on the spiky, droning meander of Cole Morse was a Friend of Mine, the anxieties from life itself slowly drip into these songs.

On the Six Organs of Admittance-tinged Nothing of Value is Every Truly Lost (for Jessi), there’s a hurried nervousness in Conley’s playing, which taps into the pure honesty of the droneroom experience. It’s these fleeting snapshots that scratch at the subconsciousness; those earthy moments that draw you in time and time again.

Other Desert Cities just about comes as advertised. A lumbering, visceral epic that could’ve ended up on Conley’s best cut this year, Rusted Lung. Here, Conley reaches the depths of the chaos that drives him to make the kind of music he does.

Meanwhile, on You Can’t Piss in the Same River Twice the certified Kentucky Colonel showcases his dry sense of humour by having some fun with song titles (if you can’t do it with instrumental-based music, then when can you?). A banjo-led ramble with barrelling drones that sound like a bird being sucked into a plane engine. Apt, considering parts of The Best of My Love were recorded sporadically throughout airports in Denver, Memphis, and Las Vegas.

While much of Conley’s sonic escapades capture the mundane moments of life, on No Abandonment (I Heard that Lonesome Whistle Blow) Conley serves up a whirring Labradford-inspired slab of A.M. dread. The kind of eerie, blackened tones that slowly cascade to every corner of the room.

Ending with I Kept You Like an Oath, Conley presents a scattered assault of ear-perforating frequencies that, turned to a certain volume, are like water torture. It underlines the essence of The Best of My Love. The chaos of life, and what has been lost and found throughout the years.

Within the album’s linear notes, Conley dedicates The Best of My Love to the late Cormac McCarthy. It lines up, as the humid atmospheres and dusty landscapes that form the vital threads to McCarthy’s stories intersect with Conley’s multi-faceted sound collages. It’s through these expansive surroundings that Conley creates a sound world that opens up the mind where one is afforded time to breathe and simply drift, escaping the constant rush of this new world. Essentially, Conley’s compositions are the soundtrack to form your own world.

The Best of My Love is yet another extension of this. Where the possibilities feel endless, in what is yet another deeply enriching experience of a journey that feels like it’s only just beginning.
Simon Kirk
sun-13.com/2023/09/22/droneroom-the-best-of-my-love/