r e v i e w s Monk--Hush and Quiver Paste Music Story by Reid Davis When guitarist Ric Hordinski was a member of Over The Rhine, an underappreciated Cincinnati, Ohio-based art-pop ensemble, he was known for live outbursts of jaw-dropping fret work. Most Over The Rhine shows would end with "If I'm Drowning," a song that allowed each member a solo spotlight before they individually left the stage. During one such celebrated episode at a Holland festival, Hordinski abused his axe until a volume knob flew off, much to the delight of the crowd. But that guy ain't here. At least not on these discs, the ambient, experimental Hush and the pop-oriented Quiver. Well, he does show up twice, on Quiver's "That's My Love," a hypnotic drum-loop track and "This Train," a riff-oriented rocker that chugs along with the relentlessness of a diesel engine at full throttle. Hordinski has taken a look at the path of the guitar god and has forsaken it, preferring a road less traveled. In the recorded works by Monk, his alter ego and band (at least in live settings), subtlety trumps soloing, and reflection is more valued than riffage. Though he has the power to demand attention, Hordinski prefers to tickle the ears while stirring the souls of his listeners. In the process, Hordinski shows himself to be the rarest kind of virtuoso - one w ho knows when not to play...and what not to play. "Music is not just about notes," he says. "It's about the space between the notes." And what makes Hordinski's music so compelling is that it transcends both notes and spaces, communicating to the listener something that transcends the literal. Good art always does that. Whether it's folk artist Howard Finster's "visions of other worlds" or a Balanchine ballet, art done with integrity takes us out of the realm of the everyday. Before listening to Hush and Quiver, my impression of Ric Hordinski was that he was a competent and highly professional sideman. The fact that he had written a good third of Over The Rhine's music somehow escaped me until he reminded me of it in a recent conversation. Still, he has done his share of sideman gigs. He's backed up singer-songwriter David Wilcox in the studio and on tour, has played occasionally with Phil Keaggy (another guitar virtuoso) and has p roduced records for other Cincinnati artists. While other artists have benefited from Hordinski's collaboration, Monk is the main vehicle for his ideas. Hordinski admits that Monk has at times been more of a concept than a band, an unavoidable reality when "one guy is doing all the writing." Still, a steady live band has coalesced for touring and recording. In fact, the next Monk record will be live, collected from various radio appearances. But it's difficult to imagine a record like Hush being performed in a live setting. Owing more to the ambient soundscapes of artists like Brian Eno than to any "pop" influence, Hush is a record built on the sound of the heavily-processed guitar. My first reaction after putting this disc in the player was "Where are the songs?" After a few tracks drifted by, I realized that there is little here that could be called a "song." That's the point. And I shouldn't have been surprised. Hordinski has of ten said that he has a penchant for "movie soundtrack" music; impressionistic music that exists outside of the verse-chorus-verse structures of a three-minute pop song. In Hush, Hordinski knits blankets of sound and then unfolds them, letting then flap in the breeze coming through the clothesline. From the ambient minimalism of "Cascades" to the eastern textures of "Shiva," there's plenty of material for the listener to make a mental motion picture to match the sounds. Contemplative instrumentals have their place on Quiver as well. Pieces such as "Traveler" and "Lullaby" provide the space necessary for lyrics delivered in other songs to sink in. "Quiver...is the idea of moments of joy or moments of realization," Hordinski says. "Describing the indescribable." But Hordinski says he doesn't believe his job is to provide transcendent moments for his listeners, or to cater to what audiences want. "I don't see th at as my responsibility," he says. "My responsibility is to be true and honest about what I'm trying to say." If honesty comes first, transcendence will follow, he says. Hush and Quiver are independently produced, and are records that Hordinski unapologetically made for himself. Playing to the expectations of an audience "is a dead-end street," he says. "People in country music do that. People in Christian music do that. That's a little plastic - it's infirm...and insubstantial." "I think the real thing people want out of a record," he says. "[Is] they want that reality, that point of intersection that gives them the experience of being alive." With Hush and Quiver, Hordinski has given us just that.