Because the dewdrop is both beautiful and fleeting, it has been used in Buddhist teaching as a metaphor for the impermanence of existence. In the haiku that gave This World of Dew its title, the Japanese poet Kobayashi Issa makes a similar point but adds, “and yet, and yet”—a comment that speaks to the sense of loss the human heart can feel even as the mind tries to transcend its attachment to the material.
That’s a very deep thought to hang an album on, and yet it perfectly fits the mix of pacific calm and unresolved longing that suffuses the music here. For This World of Dew, trumpeter Aaron Shragge and guitarist Ben Monder expand on the haunting electro-acoustic soundscapes of their previous collaborations, not only layering in additional levels of texture but intensifying the rhythmic content through looping repeated figures. “There Is Always One You Follow,” for instance, balances a chiming, chordal line from Monder’s guitar against wispy electronics that alternately evoke high strings and chanting monks. Burbling beneath it, however, is Shragge’s eight-note shakuhachi ostinato, a gentle pulse that somehow makes the music seem both meaty and transcendent.