Born out of tragedy: without the early – and therefore all the more devastating – onset of Alzheimer’s disease in drummer Tim Barnes, this third Pullman record, arriving 25 years after their last album Viewfinder, would in all likelihood never have existed. Following the shock of the diagnosis, Barnes began to make music almost daily, initially only with Bundy K. Brown, then gradually with more and more companions from earlier phases of his life. From 2021 onwards, this slowly gave rise to a kind of »supergroup« drawn from Chicago’s late-1990s and early-2000s post-rock milieu – a constellation that eventually crystallised into these six largely acoustic instrumental pieces.
Yet Pullman’s claim to the term »supergroup« lies less in any sense of star power than – thankfully – in the absence of inflated egos. Instead, the band functions as a labour of love among friends who just happen to have played, or still play, in groups such as Tortoise, Eleventh Dream Day or Come. From the atmospheric miniatures »Bray« and »Valence« to the winding, just-over-13-minute »October«, III has much to offer: meditative as well as restless states, moments of grief and consolation, optimism and unease. Particularly striking is how effortlessly Pullman reconnect with their sound from a quarter of a century ago. While the therapeutic effect on the musicians themselves can only be guessed at, the belief in music’s healing power carries across even without words.
III
