Gust of Wind # 12
Devendra Banhart, What Will We Be
This Gust of Wind comes to us through a haze, beaming the sunshine down on a cold atmosphere.
Devendra Banhart is one of the most inspiring Artists of the last ten years. Over time he has continued to evolve, but not entirely away from the mysterious beauty of his early low fidelity recordings. This record has moments that signal to the past, as if to say he hasn’t forgotten his original self. He clearly hasn’t, even when enticed by the dollar bills of a major, Banhart is still Banhart. If pressed to place a bet on him, I wouldn’t pick any number but the same one since Rejoicing in the Hands. It all seems part of a bigger picture, and he’s just waiting on us to commit to ourselves, so we can commit to each other.
I dig the newer sound, and this time it seems Banhart and company are on point when compared to their previous album, Smokey Rolls Down Thunder Canyon. That collection of tunes was out there looking for the thing he found on What Will We Be. I imagine like most things in life, we have to go through certain doors to see what’s on the other side.
Although he always seems to reach for the stars, on What Will We Be the music plays as if he’s made his connection. It’s only the first stop toward much more, but he has made it to the next level as a musical powerhouse, shining its own light on the rest of us, from its own corner, somewhere off in a hazy galaxy. From this point on, it only looks brighter from here. Devendra Banhart is the invaluable piece to a younger generations place in cultural history.
A few special words evoked by the song “Walilamdzi,” off this very delightful addition to a discography growing to be one of my favorites. I dug up an old piece of photography I took on my Brothers farm in Michigan. I think it fits well. Thank you for reading.
The Sounds from cracks of ceiling beams, makes fog in a room with no smoke. The Red wine intertwines our words. One last chime from the door, another late addition. Pull up a seat friend, we’ll be reminiscing.
- Ryan Boos