Sage, M. - Tender / Wading

Constructed primarily on piano and clarinet, and then embellished with guitar, modular synthesizer, percussion, and field recordings captured around the perimeter of his home, the album is a sweeping, serene vision of vitality, radical softness, and the reassuring sense of coming home, even if home has changed. In a holistic contrast to Crick’s synthetic sound-world, Sage renders art from the act of stewarding new growth, questioning constructs of domestic life, and understanding the footsteps of his former self through the dirt-smeared, sweat-fogged lens of the present. The yield is his most autobiographical material to date, marked by time and changes in perception and meaningful details from Sage’s psychic search. For 'Tender / Wading', Sage deploys a distinct sound: a pastoral kind of folk Kosmiche, contemplative electro-acoustic barn jazz for the Front Range, brimming with pale puddle blues and rusted oil drum reds. Most songs began on a 1910 Hamilton upright piano, curiously built in Chicago, left behind by the previous owners and inhabited by mice. The chance encounter with the instrument felt cosmic, not just for its link to the Windy City, but also given Sage’s evolving approach to songwriting after Fuubutsushi. He’s become more comfortable behind the keys and getting back behind the drum kit (his teenage love), and within a fittingly woodwind space, embracing the elemental and intentional, giving the music more structural heft and warmth from the onset. Tender’s M. Sage synthesizes the studio experimentation and improvisation of his past with a sharpened ear for melodic phrasings and chord changes, culling his usual bounty of demos down to a tight final nine. His world-building signatures remain, from woodhouse toads swimming in static to rustling grass and rain piddling in the gutters to waltzing constellations under the moonlight. Where Crick’s universe was born from magical realism and digital fantasy, 'Tender / Wading' cuts from the human experience more directly. He’s quick to push back on notions of it being a highly conceptual record; “I’m just making the music that I would want to be playing in my headphones while weeding or whatever.” It could be both, as the rabbit and duck would assert, deeply personal and abstract, a fascinating and natural turn from a twenty-first-century experimental artist whose legacy continues to shape and grow in real-time