A squirrel. A concertina. This is not a pair that should make for 11-plus minutes of captivating music – even if you figure in the fact that we’re talking about our native Pine Squirrel in general, and not one particular squirrel. And yet here we are. Steven Arntson has taken these two simple elements and woven together something beautiful and delightful – a doubtless exhausting, painstaking task that reveals not a bit of effort or strife in its final execution.
“The Squirrel” starts off slowly, tentatively. You might be a bit skeptical at first. “Is this it? This wheezy little squeezebox?” And then, perhaps like finding yourself in a Pacific Northwest wood, watching a little native creature in its natural habitat, digging up nuts, scampering over leaves and up and down trees, you can find yourself zoning out and getting lost in the moment, and then focusing in with laser clarity on specific movements or phrases. And then before you know it you’ve lost all track of time, it’s dark, you have no food, and the only thing to lead you home is the sweet sound of a concertina drifting over the hills. Or maybe that’s just me. Suffice it to say, Steven Arntson has achieved something remarkable with this intimately minimalist, charming piece of music. Repeated listens will be rewarding, I promise you.