Pat Metheny’s ‘Moondial’ Is Object Lesson In Guitarist’s Fascination With Possibility (ALBUM REVIEW)

Given the range of endeavors Pat Metheny has pursued since beginning to work under his own name nearly a half-century ago, it’s noteworthy that his solo projects are among the most distinctive. Last year’s Dream Box was just such a stellar work, and now Moondial also joins the niche Pat carved with 2003’s One Quiet Night and What It’s All About eight years later.

Like its three counterparts, Moondial is first and foremost impressive on a technical level. A gifted guitarist to begin with, Metheny has honed his talent over years of touring and recording to the point a temptation arises to take for granted the precision and nuance of his playing. Yet even as he sounds effortless in both interpretations of this title song, he also radiates the sense of a job well done. 

Nevertheless, Pat’s fretboard excursions are really no more of a given than the clarity of the audio applied to this all-acoustic outing. Recorded between tours on a custom-built nylon-stringed baritone guitar, then mixed and mastered respectively by Pete Karam and Ted Jensen, there are no overdubs on any of the baker’s dozen tracks. Highlighting the special tuning Metheny devised for the instrument, the process nevertheless compels thoughts about how many takes were required to reach satisfactory renditions).

Inspired by the novel possibilities of the new instrument (right down to the strings themselves), the range of material on Moondial is at once a reaffirmation and exhibition of the Missouri-born musician’s eclectic tastes. The selections come across in a seamless whole wherein the revisitation of a tune originally done by Metheny’s Unity Band in 2012, “This Belongs to You.” resides comfortably next to John Lennon and Paul McCartney’s “Here, There and Everywhere.” 

One of the most telling choices is Chick Corea’s “You’re Everything,” a cut from the very first studio album by Return To Forever Light as a Feather. Metheny manages to preserve the Latin undercurrent of that early lineup even as his musicianship evinces that purity of intent permeating this whole record. 

Little wonder a deep sense of quietude, comparable to that of the album’s companion pieces, prevails for the total running time of roughly an hour (individual cuts range from one minute plus to slightly over seven minutes). The Beatles cover is a case in point, while the slight air of foreboding within “We Can’t See It, But It’s There” effects a contrast that precludes any creeping sense of sameness.

Moondial is also an object lesson in Pat Metheny’s fascination with possibility in each new project. Rethinking his work opens up the potential for raising his craftsmanship to the state of high art. Accordingly, this LP emits an air of single-minded purpose whether the song in play is “My Love and I” (written for a movie western) or a traditional number in the form of “Londonderry Air” (complete with a quick and soft harmonic). 

The challenges inherent in playing the varied choices freshen Metheny’s approach to playing, inevitably quashing any suspicion he is merely going through the motions. As intense as this listening experience becomes over the duration of the record, Pat conjures an atmosphere of sunny relaxation on a cut such as “Lacrosse.” Shoga is another one of those archetypal pieces of pure euphoria Metheny perfected decades ago. That said, though, he refuses to belabor its uplifting effect or betray any sense of undue repetition.

Such a vital means of creativity has not always been the case with Pat’s output (see some of his middle-period Group projects in particular). And though there is a fleeting sense of over-familiarity here, there’s no question Metheny exerts himself to transcend his prior accomplishments. There’s an emotional investment in play on Moondial by which Pat derives a tangible pleasure that correlates directly to his sense of accomplishment.