So let's get some information out of the way right up front. Daniel Higgs is the frontman of Lungfish. This record doesn't have much to do with Lungfish apart from that. The Yggdrasil is, and here I'm copying words from the Thrill Jockey information sheet, "the great tree of Norse myth that connects all worlds of cosmology." In the Christian version, it's the thing that connects heaven and Earth. Think of John Milton's cosmology (if you like), whereby Earth hangs from a chain from heaven, and replace that chain with a tree, which is a much calmer way of thinking of the theological(ish) side of life on this planet.
Anyhoo, the record. Daniel recorded this stuff on a cassette recorder in his home. It's done with banjos, acoustic guitars, electric guitars, pianos and jew's harp, although not necessarily all at the same time. Each piece is structurally loose, but patterns emerge, both within and across pieces. "Luminous Carcass Ornament" starts out a bit like a steam train wheezing and chugging as it slowly leaves the station and then turns into ten minutes of meandering fuzzy finger-picked banjo and/or guitar lines (it's hard to tell sometimes because of the recording aesthetic, which distorts and flattens instrument sounds). "Cocoon on the Cross" is an electric guitar piece in the tone of Frusciante. "Spectral Hues" begins with birds and falling water, and is driven by a droning buzz and high-pitch staccato tapping that sounds like bottles being knocked together (but is probably one of the keys on the far right of the piano), and is essentially a concerto for jew's harp. The title piece begins with explosion. It features distorted acoustic guitar over a background of tinkling piano. The guitar moves through a variety of paces, sometimes picking out single notes, but rising to a frenzy of arpeggios before slowing to a moderate pace and fading into eternity. Which is quite a lot for a three and a half minute piece of music to do. "Creation Moan" uses a technique that I would characterize as a series of "cuts" or "edits", although that's not an entirely accurate description. Sometimes tones are long and ringing, and they're sometimes rapid staccato notes. Sometimes it sounds like a damaged grandfather clock chiming a distorted hour. It manages to be beautiful and unsettling at the same time, and is probably the best piece on the album. "Hems and Seams" starts with a squall of electric guitar and meanders into a distorted banjo piece, before ending with a couple of bird chirps. This album isn't an easy listen, which isn't to say that it's difficult or inaccessible, but rather, that it wants you to pay attention. It repays that attention.
The cd is released alongside a 48-page book of art, also by Daniel. The paintings are good, albeit somewhat derivative surrealist works. On the other hand, I'm not an art critic, so I won't draw too much judgment. Each painting is accompanied by an acrostic poem, often a meditation on a religious theme. Now here's the thing. Acrostics can be messy (and juvenile) things. But Daniel's are very good. They're short, and although they often seem slight on first read, the slightness is actually their strength. Because as I mentioned, the poems are meditations, and their simplicity allows each word to be considered both on its own and as part of the phrase. And of course as reflection on the word spelled acrostically.
Example:
Let
It
Grow
High
Tonight
It's not exactly life-changing, but it's a long way from boring. Now think of what he might have done with Lucifer, Eden or Armageddon and understand why you might want to read them while you listen to the music.