ART SCHOP, O Friends

In my recent glowing writeup on The Fifth Hammer, yet another epic collection by Martin Walker’s enigmatic musical alter ego Art Schop, I heaped praise on the singer/songwriter and philosophy and fiction writer’s obtuse poetic lyrics, dark, moody and spaciously atmospheric aesthetic and sublimely haunting Leonard Cohenish voice while also noting how “with every turn of phrase, he inspires us to Google frantically to expand our knowledge of history, philosophy and historical characters from other eras.

I was breathlessly awaiting my second rodeo with this unusual but wildly engaging artist, and he delivers in fascinating fashion with O Friends, which is equally hypnotic, just in a different way. On this immersive, emotionally mesmerizing, astonishingly offbeat follow-up collection, Schop applies those expansive, edgy yet ambient and truly unpredictable sonic vibes to a set of artful (pun sort of intended!) meditations on five longtime (and in some cases, lifelong) friends who have made a resounding impact on his life.

The concept for this unusual, delectably quirky yet supremely heartfelt homage to “Billy,” “George,” “Norm,” “Neil” and (the unfortunately late) “Jimi” was sparked by a quote from Aristotle he read in Hua Husu’s tome on friendship Stay True: “O friends, there are no friends.” He cleverly inserts the line into each of the pieces like a surreal mantra, either at the beginning, middle or end of his abstract but supremely poetic musings on each of his mates.

Those daring to listen to this introspective symphony of hypnotic mood pieces on streaming should find a way to get a hold of Schop’s liner notes in which he illuminates the details of each unique relationship. Little details stand out among the grandeur of these lengthy reminiscences with elongated instrumental passages - like meeting “Billy” in grade school on the playground in grade school and turning that seminal moment into the richly expressive lines “You saw this world upside down appearing, as if from a sigh now lost in the shadow of the mountain.” Or meeting Norm in Chicago when Walker/Schop was transferred thee for work in his tech consulting days and doing the town. This somehow translates to: “You greeted me in your starched white shirt, secure in the constancy of the common craft, a sage of the modern world cast upon its surface like a lure.”

Likewise, reminiscing about his late musical collaborator Jimi, he intones soulfully (and a bit atonally): “I’ll miss you when the doorbell rings and you’re not there/purple shoes jokes about the snow and your frizzy hair. . .I appreciate you now more than you annoyed me. All this magic would simply be spoken word poetry without the unique, otherworldly dance he creates for his lyrics with his new instrument – a Dave Smith Sequential Instruments Prophet 5.

For those not up on retro-keyboards that can make the eeriest of sounds, the original incarnation of this musical time travel portal was the first polyphonic synth with fully programmable memory. Working with all its sonic possibilities – which he uses to create spellbinding organic earthscapes and soaring spacescapes behind his shadowy singing and recitations – he realized he heard it growing up on albums by David Bowie (his semi-soundalike) and Pink Floyd, among others.

Schop enhances every nuance, every thoughtful emotion, with the subtle, flourish-filled excitement of drummer/percussionist Chris Heinz. Like all of Schop’s recordings, O Friends is often a challenging listen that requires patience in this ADD-addled age of streaming. But the rewards are plenty – and it just may inspire our own gratitude towards the friends, some constant, others who come and go, who have animated and elevated our lives.