Marco Oppedisano's "Selected Works (1999-2017)"

Subtitled "Acoustic, electric and electroacoustic music with guitar -- how's that for truth in advertising? -- this hour of digital tuneage features works by the NYC-based axe-slinger (whose improv videos, viewable on YouTube, were one of the things that made the first wave's lockdown tol'able here at the house) performed by other guitarists, as well as the composer. 

The four movements of "Urban Mosaic (for solo electric guitar)" are played by Kevin R. Gallagher, a Juilliard-schooled, award-winning classical guitarist who returned to electric playing in the late '90s. The movements -- "Behind the nut," "Ebow," "Guitar solo," and "Fingerstyle ballad" -- recall Anthony Braxton's "language musics" in the way they focus on different aspects of the player's process. The confluence of heavy metal sonics and extended techniques beguiles the ear, and sets the table for the very different palette of "Movements for solo classical guitar," played by Turkish guitarist Hale Burgul, which range from quietly ruminative to restlessly searching.

"Move for bar. sax, mar., el. gtr., and pno." juxtaposes contrasting textures of wind, percussion, and strings, unified by Oppedisano's melodic invention. This recording teams the composer with the Glass Farm Ensemble. "Trio with playback for bass flute, cello, el. gtr. and playback" combines the sonorities of live instruments with sampled sounds in the "hyperrealist" manner the composer learned from his teacher Noah Creshevsky (to whom he pays tribute in "Snapshots for Noah Creshevsky").

As an instrumentalist, Oppedisano's voice is inflected with metal, fusion, and blues, but his composer's mind makes him much more than a mere shredder. The pieces showcased here, written over a couple of decades, track the development of a cinematic approach that can be dark and foreboding or, as on "Maisie's Gift," dedicated to Oppedisano's daughter and featuring found sounds from a playground, evocative of more innocent and wistful emotions. It's a sound world worth visiting.

CHORD's "CHORD IV"

We're going back to the bad Covid time here in North Texas, and folks are making like it's not a big thing. Kids are going back to school with no mask or Covid vaccine requirements in place to protect them, and this winter is starting to look like it could be worse than last year. The moment in early summer when folks were starting to test the waters of social interaction again (before we got hip that even those of us who are fully vaccinated could be asymptomatic carriers and even experience breakthrough infections) is starting to seem like a very long time ago.

Back in July, NYC-based "free metal" guitar duo CHORD -- that'd be Nick Didkovsky (Doctor Nerve, Fred Frith Guitar Quartet) and Tom Marsan -- ventured out of their respective Covid havens to convene in the studio with a couple of Gibson SGs (1967 and 1995) and a couple of Marshall amps to take the fourth step in their exploratory journey through the sonic possibilities of loud, distorted electric guitars.

CHORD IV explodes out of the gate with Marsan coaxing sounds of wrenching torment from his axe for seven minutes of "half life." The album's five tracks function like a suite, with dynamic variations that ebb and flow. After the initial energy blast, "august" provides a brief respite before "death spiral" plunges into an abyss of shuddering harmonics and mesmerizing repetition that gives way to churning turbulence, howling discord, and staccato double-stops. It's like white-water rafting through an electric maelstrom. "at an end" affords another opportunity to catch one's breath before the climactic energy bath of "rise," which starts off slow, with wisps of feedback sailing over clanging chords, gradually morphing into a pulsing, pummeling rhythm, ever increasing in density, the double-stops from "death spiral" returning to bring the piece and album to a majestic, cathartic closure.

If doom metal is an extreme closeup version of Black Sabbath, then CHORD is a further extrapolation, showcasing for those with ears to hear the infinite varieties of heavy guitar texture. Didkovsky's also on the luminously lovely In Cahoots, Vol. 4, the latest compilation of collaborations with Michigan-based composer Frank Pahl, on which the ever inventive guitarist ducks and dives all over "Hydrochloric Neckties," a quirky slice of instrumental pop. Another worthy submission for your consideration on this Bandcamp Friday.