Audiopile Review: Fresh of her arrangement duties from last week’s release from Alabaster DePlume, in-demand collaborator and string specialist Macie Stewart issues a striking LP for International Anthem. The label has an incredible nose for sniffing out emerging talent and supplying a space for them to experiment in ways that are usually relegated to much smaller imprints, and Stewart makes the most of it. While it might be daunting for some to be given a slot next to jazz and improv heavyweights like Makaya McCraven, Angel Bat Dawid and Jeff Parker, Stewart’s no slouch herself and well-suited for the challenge. Having already worked on well over 100 albums that range from pop phenoms and indie stalwarts like Japanese Breakfast, SZA, Steve Gunn, Iron & Wine and Cloud Nothings, or contributing to experimental releases on labels like Astral Spirits and Paradise of Bachelors, the busy lady has been hard at work with an exploratory and expressive work that carves out a largely unexplored zone on International Anthem, a feat on its own considering the the ever-widening breadth of the label. While Stewart has been quite adaptable through her career, rising to the needs of whomever she’s working with, When The Distance Is Blue revels in an experimental and spontaneous approach that is starker and more emotionally raw than most of we’ve heard from her prior. Stewart centres the LP around the piano, ranging from the delicate flickering of prepared piano to unhurried improvisational solos, her ability to draw a contemplative sentimentality from the keys is remarkable not only for its simplicity but also for its emotional resonance. She fills in the airy gaps of her affective piano with sweetly plucked cello, sinewy violin lines, low frequency hits from a double bass, and the angelic wordless vocals of Whitney Johnson (aka Matchess), landing in a sweetspot between fragile chamber-folk and free-form impressionism. One of the more challenging releases we’ve heard from International Anthem as of recent, but it will also be one of the most deeply rewarding for those with the willingness to let this one seep into your bones.

When the Distance is Blue is Macie Stewart’s International Anthem debut. The Chicago-based multi-instrumentalist, composer, and improviser describes the collection as “a love letter to the moments we spend in-between”—a letter realized via an intentional return to piano, her first instrument and the origin of her creative expression. Here Stewart creates a striking and cinematic work through collages of prepared piano, field recordings, and string quartet compositions, one that gives shape to a transient universe all its own while tracing the line of her musical past, full circle.

Long-heralded in musician circles for her versatility, Stewart stands as a distinguished, go-to collaborator across genre and style, with a collaborative CV that reads like a dream year-end list—performing strings for Makaya McCraven or Japanese Breakfast; singing harmonies with Tweedy; arranging for Alabaster DePlume, Resavoir, Mannequin Pussy, or SZA; co-leading the jagged art-rock experimentation of Finom, her duo with songwriter Sima Cunningham. This varied-yet-distinct sound has led to a name recognition that goes beyond the devoted liner note enthusiast.

When the Distance is Blue finds her gathering those threads and focusing those sensibilities into a contemplative 8-piece song cycle with help from noted collaborators Lia Kohl, Whitney Johnson (Matchesse), and Zach Moore. The result is an album with a musical lexicon which lands somewhere between Alvin Curran’s Songs and Views from the Magnetic Garden and Claire Rousay’s A Softer Focus.