_{By Sam Andersen}

Maximus Madsen’s dearly is a collection of folksy, acoustic guitar compositions that ask for no attention, but beg to be explored.

The moment I began listening to this album, important comparisons came to mind. I thought of the bucolic wistfulness of Hana Stretton’s soon—the way you can hear nature flutter around several of the recordings. I thought of Adrianne Lenker’s instrumentals, a compilation of improvisations divined during the sessions of her album, songs. I also thought of Gia Margaret’s Romantic Piano, a provocative instrumental album that, just like dearly, houses only one song with lyrics. And, in a way, it reminds me of Lomelda’s M for Empathy, as only a few of its tracks break the two-minute mark.

This album, in my opinion, belongs in the same family as all of those records. It bears the mark of intimate, unbothered creation. The minimalist yet high-fidelity production makes it seem like both you and Madsen are hearing each song for the first time, together. Almost every song is bookended by endearing, human artifacts (false starts, soft breathing, soft words, etc) which only amplify the beauty and clarity of the music that follows. These are songs that are hiding in your room when the sun is going down. Songs that exist after all the noise of the day dissipates. It is music that describes the feeling of a quiet mind. 

Steel-stringed acoustic guitar is the primary character in these musical stories. On the opening track, “slc 03.08.24 ryan beatty @ the grand,” sparkling chords flutter from left to right, evoking a mysterious yet inviting sensation. Like the sound of everything coming together. On other tracks, like “sugarhouse” and “collar bone shoulder blade,” it is difficult to tell whether the guitar is rejoicing or mourning. All in all, this is some of the most sincere, impressive guitar playing I have ever heard in the Utah scene.

Piano, though a secondary instrumental element of the album, makes a lasting mark on several tracks. Whether it is the only instrument in the song (i.e. “fifteenthirtythreewest”), or a holy harbinger of sorts (“wendy’s flower affair”).

I talked a bit with Thomas Smith of the band BONNEVILLE, who was a contributing musician on the record. He said that most of the recording took place in two separate cabins in Schofield, Utah. Madsen had help from some other friends and members of BONNEVILLE, and he produced and mixed the album himself. Maximus Madsen has since left to serve his mission for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and is on hiatus until he returns.

The album closes with “big nothing,” the only song with singing on the whole album. Like several of the other tracks on the record, “big nothing” is performed in an almost reverent fashion. Madsen whispers lines like “dancing at a funeral,” and “love until I’m thin and frail from lovin’ you.” A quiet snare ushers the track back to silence and birdsong.

I hope dearly leaves you as spellbound as it left me. You can follow Maximus Madsen on Instagram here and listen to “big nothing” below.