Pitchfork

Since the late 1990s, British multi-instrumentalist James Green and guitarist Dave Jaycock have created difficult-to-classify avant/classical/folk with a rotating line-up of musicians under the group name Big Eyes. Following the release of Big Eyes' 2004 album We Have No Need For Voices When Our Hearts Can Sing, however, the duo branched out from a standard group format to instead collaborate with a series of guests that includes Rachel Grimes (Rachel's), Jeremy Barnes (Neutral Milk Hotel, A Hawk and a Hacksaw), and Scottish folkie James Yorkston. Dubbing their new project the Big Eyes Family Players, Green and Jaycock spent more than three years recording the material for their new 29-track, 78-minute behemoth Do the Musiking.

Owing in large part to its protracted creation and mixed parentage, this massive, sprawling collection less resembles a cohesive work than a well-traveled cargo trunk packed with a wild assortment of avant-folk and post-rock curios. As a listening experience, the nearest equivalent might be one of the many available compilations of Ennio Morricone's more obscure soundtrack work, one that combines various pieces from every possible film genre. On this set the Family Players veer abruptly from fine-honed chamber miniatures ("For Cognac") to Appalachian-derived folk ("Bear and Butterfly") to outspread, shimmering drones ("A Dream of Fires") without betraying any interest in connective segues or dramatic foreshadowing. As such it is possible to enter the album at virtually any point, or to shuffle these tracks into any sequence, with little gain or loss in terms of progressive momentum. And though nearly each of these brief pieces works well on its own terms, one can easily absorb the breadth of Do the Musiking and still feel no closer to fully learning the true musical personality of its creators.

The Family Players, whoever they may be at any given moment, are at their transporting best on downcast, Old World serenades like "Golden" or the sublime "Ballad of the Blue Lantern", which follows a signal beacon of a keening violin and guitar across the rain-weary, cobblestone streets. "Owlet Moth" keeps a hand-clapped gypsy rhythm, while "Shanty for Darty" rolls upon the waves as a simple duet of fiddle and harmonium. On "Die Nacht" a small, piano-led ensemble plays a Debussy-like nocturne that is every bit as forceful and convincing as the electric, cascading rock of "Absolute Endings", while "Tresaith" impeccably blends field recordings of seabirds into a string quartet's stargazing drone.

Although most of the tracks on Do the Musiking are instrumental, Green and company do add quiet, unobtrusive vocals to the front-porch hoot of "Going Home" and the loner-daze of "Aquatopiate". Less successful is the theatrical, banjo-laden clunker "The Printmaker's Dilemmas", which is one of the few occasions when the album's deliberate eclecticism turns self-conscious and irritating. One added benefit of the Family Players' ever-shifting strategy and personnel is that none of Do the Musiking's weaker ideas is able to linger for long, allowing each new track to present another open range of almost limitless possibility. Needless to say, it would be impossible to predict what form the Big Eyes Family Players might take when they next return, but I'm guessing there's enough far-flung information stashed on these 29 pieces to satiate your curiosity until then.