Bill Pohl's "Let It Burn"

It's been my privilege to follow Fort Worth prog guitar godfather Bill Pohl's musical peregrinations for a couple of decades now. I first heard him doing a guest shot with Dennis Gonzales's Yells At Eels at the Wreck Room. Since then, I've enjoyed many performances by Bill with the Underground Railroad, Mad Jack McMaddd in its many permutations, and his Allan Holdsworth tribute nights (on visits home from Colorado, where he joined Rock In Opposition stalwarts Thinking Plague, as well as working on his own stuff). 

But my favorite Pohl performances yet were the ones he did at the Grackle Gallery last year, basically solo with loops and sequences (and occasional assistance from Eddie Dunlap, Craig Shropshire, and Sam Damask). It seemed to me that in this format, without other players possessed of the live imperative to be exciting, it was easier to hear the richness of the chords Bill writes, and the spaces between the trademark nut-to-bridge arpeggios. "Time for a solo album," I thought (realizing that his last one, Solid Earth, is closing in on 30 years old).

Now Bill has delivered that which I was seeking, in a digital-only release via Bandcamp for now, with a limited vinyl edition planned to follow. Bill assures me that Let It Burn's title has nothing to do with any Beatles or Stones references, nor is it a political statement (in spite of the fires engulfing the West -- including Colorado -- as I type this). Rather, it's Bill's way of saying, "Not my monkeys, not my circus." When the world's gone mad (or Maddd), you use the tools you have to express what you need to. 

The episodic track "Owl," which closes the album, is a nice summation of Let It Burn's strengths: gorgeous chords, which the propulsive but unobtrusive backing (some of it provided by a sequencer, some by bassist David Hailey and drummer Kimara Sajn -- can you spot the difference?) allows to breathe, and Pohl solo excursions that are as lyrical and appealing as they are technically impressive. 

There's a lot to enjoy here. "Kaleidoscopy," with its beguiling melodicism; the hauntingly atmospheric "Hypothalmus;" "Zeta Reticuli or Cleburne," bifurcated by birdsong, which might be my favorite Pohl track of all ti-i-ime; "Pleiades Muffin," a surprising, Rush-influenced rocker, repurposed from a pair of old ('90 and '96) tunes; and "Queen Elizabeth," whose liquid melody eventually gives way to the sound of tidal water. If  you've been looking for something to download next "Bandcamp Friday," don't take my word for it. Check it here.