Hebden and Tyler Find Common Ground

When William Tyler and Kieran Hebden first announced they were collaborating on a full-length record together, it felt both completely out of nowhere and like a no-duh scenario just waiting to happen. The two are as different as they are alike – titans of two incredibly disparate genres who regularly push boundaries and collaborate freely.

To summarize: Tyler is a modern day John Fahey, a sensitive and cinematic finger-picker who evokes the sweeping beauty of his native Tennessee as well as the cosmic wonders that hang above it with sweeping instrumental folk.

Hebden hails from London and is best known as the legendary Four Tet, a pioneer who’s spent the last 30 years weaving inorganic dance music with unexpected organic instrumentation to carve out a unique corner of experimental club music for introverts.

Kieran Hebden (left) and William Tyler (right) photo courtesy of Temporary Residence Ltd.

Like the best unlikely duos, their known differences only widened the sense of giddy possibility at the center of their collaborative venn diagram. 

Would Tyler give up his guitar to become a beat padawan under Hebden? Would they craft a more refined version of the genre-fluid country taking over Nashville? Would the two abandon all expectation and cut a hardcore punk record?

To get these questions out of the way: No. No. Maybe one day.

According to press materials, their fathers’ shared love of country music serves as the loose theme of 41 Longfield Street Late '80s. The album’s title is a combination of the street name where Hebden grew up and the era of country he and Tyler bonded over.

Perhaps owing to that choice of musical lineage, five of these seven songs center almost entirely on Tyler’s guitar, making 41 Longfield sound a lot more like a William Tyler solo record executive produced by Hebden then anything Four Tet might release.

The results are open, airy, and over in a breezy 40 minutes. And while there is beauty to be found in this collaboration, I’ve struggled to overcome my disappointment for what’s not here.

Back to the tantalizing center of that venn diagram – a quality Tyler and Hebden share is a sense of creative daring. They are not afraid to upend their sound and challenge their fanbases when inspiration strikes. Hebden has collaborated with everyone from fellow English electronic legend Burial to the King of “Wub-a-Dub-Dub” dubstep Skrillx.

Just this year, Tyler released Time Indefinite, one of his stormiest and most experimental albums that pitted his guitar-playing with heavy samples and caustic drones. 

While not as easy going and pastoral as his previous solo works, Time Indefinite showcased a promising new creative identity for Tyler to evolve in – one that I fully expected Hebden to push open further.

For fans like me expecting something as bold and inventive as a Rounds or New Vanitas, 41 Longfield can feel awfully safe and simple. However, the more I’ve sat with it, the more my initial disappointment for what’s not here has given way to an appreciation for what is, especially when I remind myself of the familial theme at its core.

That manifests most prominently in the opening “cover” of Lyle Lovett’s alt-country classic “If I Had a Boat.” Tyler tenderly plays through the song’s familiar shapes while Hebden drops in heavenly drones and bubbling electronics that buoy the runtime to 11 minutes.

The serves as the clear nostalgic thesis statement of 41 Longfield, stretching familiar and precious sounds into a trance-like drone that sounds joyous enough to live in forever

The true standout for me is “Spider Ballad,” which feels closest to the wilder Four Tyler/William Tet album I was hoping for. Hebden manipulates the scrape of Tyler’s guitar strings into a thumping, hypnotic dance pulse that, true to its name, evokes what the spiders in my attic might party to.

“Timber” is an emotive ballad that Hebden spikes with additional layers of Tyler’s playing to make it sound like a six-string cathedral. Closer “Secret City” is a quiet epic that features hard strummed major chords that crash against the quiet roar of a gurgling drone that clinches my heart in the best way. With no words, the song radiates a rising feeling of hope and it’s easily one of the most outright beautiful songs in either artist’s discography.

As an ode to memories that aren’t quite shared but still connect us, 41 Longfield is a total success. While it doesn’t live up to the previous genre-exploding mindbenders both artists have released, there’s still plenty to bask in once the tight grip of expectation loosens.

By Reed Strength