Emerging in the late 1990s as a non-vocal studio-only acoustically oriented post-rock supergroup, Pullman featured members of Tortoise, Come, Rex, Eleventh Dream Day, and The Tower Recordings. After releasing a pair of albums on Thrill Jockey, Pullman was essentially dormant from the early aughts until recently, with the outfit having reconvened to record III for the Western Vinyl label. Available January 9 on LP and digital, this new set brings additional dimension to an established sound that was rooted in precision.
There is a notion that supergroups, those recording or performance aggregations that consist of members who’ve built a reputation based upon lauded prior output and who’ve joined together to form a unit that thrives on the layered skills of the entire assemblage, are largely putrid in conception. To elaborate, supergroups are often retrograde, ego-driven endeavors best left to rock music’s sweaty, shirtless caveman era.
Less snidely, many have faulted these attempts to pile talents upon abilities as lacking in the crucial component of interactive chemistry. To borrow from the realms of team sports, rarely does a championship team consist entirely of all-stars. There is legitimacy to this observation, as the musical supergroups of yore almost never lasted beyond an album or two before burning bright and flaming out.
Leave it to a bunch of stalwart post-rockers to help revitalize the supergroup idea. Pullman took shape when Bundy K. Brown and Doug McCombs, both members of Tortoise (Brown also playing in Directions in Music and McCombs in Eleventh Dream Day and Brokeback), began recording with Curtis Harvey of Rex and Chris Brokaw of Come and Codeine. This lineup recorded Turnstyles & Junkpiles, released in 1998, with a guest appearance by David Pajo of Slint and Tortoise.
Akin to supergroups of the old school, Pullman’s acoustic direction was guitar-focused, but the sound they produced was essentially inclined toward gestures of beauty and grace rather than brawny sprawl. Underscoring the lack of ego was the absence of a vocalist, a void that solidified their post-rock foundation.
For their second album, Viewfinder, released in January 2001, percussionist Tim Barnes (Ditch Croaker, The Tower Recordings, Jim O’Rourke) joined. Understandably, Pullman’s sound expanded, though cohesiveness was retained. This new recording comes after Barnes’ announcement in 2021 of a diagnosis of early-onset Alzheimer’s at age 54.
Following, Barnes and Brown began working on music, initially with one track for a compilation in mind, which grew in size as the rest of the group was brought in. The current album is the result, edited and mixed by Brown with contributions in the early stages from Barnes. With the passage of time come developments in the group’s approach, which are quickly discernible in the rougher and indeed hazier atmosphere of the succinct opener, “Bray.”
Much of the guitar on the prior two Pullman albums was cleanly delivered, as fingerpickers like John Fahey and Leo Kottke were referenced as influences. This aspect hasn’t vanished. See the gorgeous “Thirteen” for instance, but before that, “Weightless” introduces a new angle of sorts, the track reminiscent of You La Tengo circa And Then Nothing Turned Itself Inside-Out crossed with Flying Saucer Attack, perhaps.
The significant latter portion of “Thirteen” shifts into ambient mode and then segues into the gradually intensifying volume and edgy, abstract amp spillage of “October.” What unfurls is a hovering psychedelia that’s definitely not throwing back to earlier, standard rock sensibilities.
The very brief fingerpicking of “Killing Time” ushers in the swirling, echoey banjo-laden “Kabul” for the album’s close. III offers a revived Pullman in adventurous form.
GRADED ON A CURVE:
A-
