Pino Palladino / Blake Mills: That Wasn't a Dream

"Consider the strange physics of being a passenger: You're at once in motion and at rest, paradoxically traveling without moving. Scenery hurries by your window. Sometimes your eyes unfocus, scanning a flattened blur of color; other times they might zero in on a road sign or a single leaf, following it out of frame. When you arrive, it's as if time and space are just behind your shoulder, catching up."

"The jazz duo's first record, 2021's Notes With Attachments, mined similar territory, if a bit busier. Its compositions had the brisk motion of a crowded city sidewalk rather than the hazy liminality of a long train ride. Palladino, the 67-year-old Welsh sideman who's played with D'Angelo, Don Henley, and De La Soul, hooked his basslines around syncopated percussion and legato tones. Mills, a sought-after producer who's worked with Beck, Fiona Apple, and Alabama Shakes, carefully inserted staccato guitar plucks between the gaps in rhythmic lines."

"On That Wasn't a Dream, they started with similarly complex arrangements but methodically disassembled them, leaving plenty of air between each sound. "If we could make something work with the least possible ingredients, space could become the centerpiece," Palladino said in a statement. The result is a sparse, enchanting record where time passes circuitously and phrases brush against each other like branches in the wind."

That Wasn't a Dream is a spacious, surreal album by bassist Pino Palladino and guitarist-producer Blake Mills. Each track finds stillness through continuous motion and resolves tension via interlocking, minimal elements. Melodies merge into harmonic clouds and then separate, creating nebulous yet organized textures. The record contrasts with Notes With Attachments, whose compositions felt busier and moved like a crowded sidewalk. Palladino anchors songs with syncopated bass and legato tones while Mills adds staccato guitar plucks in rhythmic gaps. Collaborators contribute interlocking shapes that are pared down to leave ample space between sounds. The reduced ingredients make space the centerpiece, producing a sparse, enchanting experience where time feels circuitous and phrases drift like branches in the wind.

Read at Pitchfork