MVI’s In The Rain Shadow Strikes Gold

By Deuce
Seven men are depicted in the album materials for In The Rain Shadow, the latest collection of music from MVI. Each has an instrument. There’s an upright bass. Something that looks suspiciously like a violin is upheld, too. Surely that’s a guitar in one of the gentlemen’s hands, while others lift ethnic looking percussive drums.
But put them all together, on the same track, vibe, and recording session, and genius emerges, as surely as it has from any other locus. Sometimes it’ slowly and deceptively, as it does on “Cloud Shadows”. In fact, it’s not a minute or two into the tune that it becomes readily apparent that this is the best number of the bunch (not to mix metaphors).
At first you become entranced by the obscenely high-pitched, passive sounds of the strings and a wind instrument that alternates between sounding like a flute and a tenor sax at different junctures on the album. The acoustic guitar follows suit, if not leads the way, with a couple of chord progressions. Out of nowhere the drums and percussion comes in and the cut rears itself on its haunches, ready to launch, full of anticipation and that pregnant, pensive feeling that something, anything, is going to happen, as the gang grooves with a deliberateness that’s not to be interpreted as anything else.
On other tunes, the effervescence is so palpable the tracks seem ready to spring to life before your eyes. “The Gorge” is palatably demonstrative of this penchant of the fellas, who even add an electric guitar to the predominantly acoustic affair to punctuate the trajectory of the strings, the wind instrument (or instruments), and sparklingly rich percussion.
The titular song stands out for its evocative imagery and wandering, gazing-in-the-distance melody that’s primed for a love story film’s anxious moments in which the denouement—heralding either the couple’s final breakup or climactic dash into each other’s arms—is imminent. It transcends smooth to become engrained in the very annals of passion itself: a pleasure to behold on a collection replete with such delights.
