Litany of Echoes contains a great deal of stunning musicianship. And James Blackshaw, who has released more full lengths in five years than anyone could expect, continues to exhibit his compositional skills. Unfortunately for him, he’s British and listeners should be able to tell pretty quickly. If given a chance, any fan can differentiate between Bert Jansch and Townes Van Zandt. Their respective countries are vocally expressed through music. The same is true of Blackshaw – except his cultural baggage is displayed via his 12-string guitar.

Drawing from 20^th century composers as much as other guitarists won’t make ones recordings effete, but being more indebted to Windham Hill than Takoma will. Litany does strive to repeat motifs, but only to serve the compositional entirety of the release. It’s just less tied to American blues and folk forms than most would let on – that’s not good or bad, it’s just different than, let’s say Jack Rose.

Again the musicianship, as Blackshaw’s guitar is augmented by various bowed instruments as well as piano, is beyond reproach – not necessarily engaging, but well beyond competent. It seems though that the concepts that spurred Blackshaw into these compositions are as intriguing as the music that it produced.

The cover of Litany is emblazoned with a circular figure endlessly retreating into itself. The image is verbally reflected in the title of not only “Echo and Abyss,” but also in “Infinite Circle.”

Continuing to extend the circular and assumed philosophical meaning imbued in the image as well as the musical compositions, “Past Has Not Passed,” again relates to a notion of circuitous movement. That title hints at the all together crushing-unknowing and uncertainty by which life is lived. Blackshaw seems fascinated by any obscurities and also entitles a tune “Shroud,” lending listeners images of cloaked and clandestine figures.

By titling the first and last track after a pair of gates related to the origin of dreams, Blackshaw not only succeeds in creating a recording that is circular in nature – it refers back to itself – but even concludes with a reprisal of the lead off track.

There seems to have been an immense amount of contemplation poured into the titling of each of these six tracks – not more than the music one may assume, but the lack of consideration given to listeners relegates Litany to art for art’s sake. There’s obviously nothing wrong with that, but it doesn’t necessarily make for good listening.