William Tyler

One glance at William Tyler’s extensive CV reveals his varied music interests and unusually adaptable style. In the past 10 years, he’s been a sometime member of both the Silver Jews and Lambchop (but who in Nashville hasn’t backed Kurt Wagner at some point?). The son of country songwriter Dan Tyler, who’s penned hits for Keith Whitley and Kenny Rogers, William has also played with country veteran Charlie Louvin, soul veteran Candi Staton, Americana eccentrics Bonnie “Prince” Billy and James Jackson Toth, and Paris minimalist Rhys Chatham. He’s also got credits on albums by Christina Aguilera and comedian Margaret Cho, although he’s likely a little more forthcoming about the record label he founded, Sebastian Speaks. Its odd catalog includes, among other novelties, a collection of discarded answering machine tapes.

Tyler obviously stays busy, and the range of those side gigs is reflected in his solo output, which includes an album under the pseudonym the Paper Hats and another under his own name. While the former shows a resourceful young player with an agile finger-picking style, the latter, titled Behold the Spirit, truly captures the diversity and unique eloquence of his accomplished fretwork. Released in late 2010 on Tompkins Square (perhaps the best label for contemporary American guitar composition), the album incorporates a staggering array of styles and forms—folk, country, noise, drone, rock, string-band, even raga—into his graceful arrangements.

Rather than simply reiterate these ideas, though, Tyler combines and recombines traditions in subtly new ways, with nods to his contemporaries (Ben Chasny, the late Jack Rose) as well as to his heroes (John Fahey of course, but also Brian Eno). Full of darkly evocative melodies and mesmerizing drones, his compositions sound lush but sparse, engaged and engaging, otherworldly yet never anything other than endlessly, accessibly listenable. —Stephen Deusner