Matt Walker has been quietly going about his business for three decades now, from his early collaborations with Ashley Davies, through his ongoing tenure as singer/guitarist for the brilliant Lost Ragas, his solo work, and as sideman for Tex Perkins— in his many guises. What typifies his playing is a kind of austere, unhurried precision, devoid of the show pony, but never professorial or overly studied. There’s always a tight connection to the heart, an old soul quality that permeates his playing on six-string, 12-string, slide guitar, and now, on his new solo album Dobro Nada… the dobro.

The album’s six pieces are all untitled (the album title’s Slavic translation is Good Hope), the listener given free rein to absorb and interpret the music as they see fit, without preconceived titles or words to cloud or guide one’s listening experience. It’s a freeing approach that opens the stereo plane to all possibilities, internal and external place and time.

Given the spaciousness of the arrangements, there’s a proclivity to be drawn to wide open spaces— a heady slow glide above the carpeted valleys of the Blue Mountains, the lonesome red dirt country expanse, or the infinite darkness of a night sky— Walker’s evocative dobro notes picking out melodies like flickering stars, the time-lapse traverse of a satellite, or the intermittent trails of a meteor. There’s dust ingrained in Dobro Nada, but it could be from the desert or the cosmos.

These may be separate tracks, but the cohesiveness and subtle deployment of the instruments— dobro, synth, voice, percussion— their minimalist utilisation, and the overarching mood and atmosphere create sonic scenes within an imagined film.

Some of my favourite music in recent years has been within the world of ambient Americana, and often soundtracks. Neil Young’s Dead Man, William Tyler’s First Cow, Richard Thompson’s Grizzly Man, Bruce Langhorne’s The Hired Hand, Eno & Lanois’ Apollo— all works of exquisite tension and grace. They’re able to imbue feelings of great melancholy and transport the listener via subtle washes of sound and sublime melodic phrasing, and Walker’s latest solo work is an essential addition to that canon.

The closest we get to a release from the cosmic drift of Walker’s playing is when things straighten into some beautiful fingerpicked passages in the final track. After the mystery and weightlessness of the previous music, it conveys a sense of awakening, acceptance, a new day, or a moment of clarity and realisation. From the darkness into the light… the importance of hope.