Recently, over the river and through the woods, I found myself lost as darkness set in. Where I was or how I got there didn't matter so much as my thought process at that exact moment: I finally knew how shit-poor of a Boy Scout I really was in the days of my wild-eyed youth. Stumbling and ambling through the black, I came across a peculiar farm cabin, which I took the liberty to enter. The foyer aroma provided a cocktail of incense and must, and strewn all about the room were delay pedals and various musical instruments. I fiddled with the guitars and the vibraphones, but in doing so, I failed to hear the two pairs of footsteps, growing louder as they approached. My mishandling of the glockenspiel proved to be the last straw, as I was then tackled by surprise and forcibly tied to a chair with restraints and rope.
After explaining who I was and where I was coming from, I learned that I had stumbled upon the home-recording studio of The White Lodge, who had just finished mixing their debut LP, Twilight Vision, for Darla Records. The husband-and-wife duo extended a gesture to set me free on the condition that I give Twilight Vision a fair listen and my honest opinion. In spite of my situation, I found that The White Lodge showed great promise and potential over the course of Twilight Vision's 10 sparse and all-instrumental tracks. As far as incidental music goes, the eerie soundscapes complemented my desolate surroundings quite nicely (in captivity or not). This isn't the type of background music you would hear piped into the waiting room at the dentist's office.
Although I admired the singular vision and commitment to aesthetic, I was a bit disappointed by the relatively short track lengths. On a number of tracks, "Hawk Watch" in particular, The White Lodge seemed to stop short as soon as things start to get cooking. At just three and a half minutes, it was a mere tease, a hint of the type of transcendental stuff The White Lodge should be capable of doing. I remarked that "Forest Balance" was a distillation of pure aching beauty, to which I was told, "Nice Try. Now pipe down, you've still got three more songs to sit through." But it was my pleasure. The soothing drones of Twilight Vision closer "Waking Vision," on the other hand, provided a welcome resolution to all the bad vibes. And with that resolution, my captors cut me loose.
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