Kelley Stoltz, Below the Branches

Take a dash of the Beach Boys, the warmth of a sunset, a sprinkle of Velvet Underground, and a slab of the Beatles, and you might have something close to Kelley Stoltz’s ambitious sophomore effort, Below the Branches. It is altogether new, altogether old, and everything you wouldn’t expect from the Renaissance man who recorded the entire album and played every instrument on it, from harpsichord to wind chime, solo.

To call Stoltz eclectic would be an understatement. Borrowing from the best of ’60s garage rock, ’70s rhythm and blues, and the organic sentimentality of singer-songwriters like Nick Drake and Jeff Buckley, Stoltz creates music that’s as stunning in its visceral imagery as it is in its sultry feedback. Piano-driven standouts like “Words” and “The Sun Comes Through” open the ears with beats and anxious melodies but take measured turns for the unexpected. They fade into nature to make one’s mind wander as their form gets obscured beneath blankets of trees. Suddenly, the listener is greeted by birds, insects galore, and falling leaves. Then the music returns, as fresh as before, but the scene is surreal — a virtual trip. Stoltz also tries this magic on “Birdies Singing,” but this time around the birds chirp throughout; it’s a groovy backdrop to a pulsing beat.

Below reveals Stoltz as a mixer of sorts; he loves to pair things that others keep separate. Melody and feedback, the forest and the beach, it’s all meshed together in a distinctive fashion. Tracks like “Ever thought of coming back,” with its honey-sweet harmonies, are packaged together with Nirvana-like feedback, while “The Rabbit who Hugged the World” is reminiscent of the ’60s at its surfer-boy best. Though the lyrics can be drippy and at times too unreal, the music stills allows these songs to shine. It’s a hell of an album to find your self in, but getting lost in it is so much better.