Some of this stuff gets really abstract, particularly in the album’s stoney middle stretch. “Warmer Cooler” is a slow-motion swirl of fizzing white noise and splashes of synth that Papich and Field-Pickering constructed in part on CDJs, blurring the line between field recordings, improv, and turntablism. The hazy ambient dub of “Pasters” cedes the foreground to dissonant guitar and damaged spring reverb; never in any hurry to get anywhere fast, it dissolves into pure noise by the end. “The Latecomer” is equally directionless, but this time gently so; its tufts of synth and saxophone recall the nebulously sensual moods of Jon Hassell at his most atmospheric.
Lifted have never been terribly concerned with structure. “In Lifted there is no strict control,” Field-Pickering has said. “I think a lot of Lifted songs do tend to make a path of their own in a way. We all have lives, pursuits, other things going on, and the amount of time between versions of tunes makes it so that our sense of editing sort of melts down.” But Trellis also features some of the most streamlined, song-like writing on any Lifted album to date. Wong channels the Durutti Column’s Vini Reilly on the fetching “Gris Pink”; “Specials,” sculpted around a gorgeous bass-synth melody from Papich, has a low-key sentimentality that reminds me of Arthur Russell, even if it doesn’t exactly sound like him. (Maybe it’s the delicate balance of simplicity and complexity: It begs you to sing along, yet challenges you to keep up with its unexpected twists and turns.)
No track better encapsulates this newfound lyrical side of Lifted than “Open Door,” a languid ambient-jazz miniature made with little more than a wistful circular piano melody and daubs of what sound like clarinet, but the credits say are Wurlitzer. As the song progresses, the piano begins slipping out of tune, submitted to the vagaries of warped tape—subtle at first, then so severe that you imagine a battered Maxell spilling in an iridescent tangle from the dashboard cassette deck. The plaintive warble only enhances the song’s fragility. Then, just as it’s all about to drown in dissonance, a dubby hip-hop beat swoops in on a rescue mission, carrying the track to higher ground. It’s clearly a case where two unrelated studio jams have been pasted together, but the pairing makes intuitive sense. On Trellis, no matter where Lifted’s haphazard assemblages end up drifting, you feel fortunate to be along for the ride.
