ith Bells for Augustin Lesage, Alex Neilson’s Directing Hand project has created a space where improv and folk meet without the need for weird beards or the pressures of scene conformity. For a man at total ease with both the controlled world of rhythm and the tonal expressions of free percussion, his rare ability to marshal bliss is an unexpected and welcome surprise.

“Beamsley Beacon” sets the scene, trickling to life like light moving through stained and dusty glass imbuing it, and other pieces, with the sort of spirituality that’s grounded in human sadness. The underlying graveness of this and the closing two traditional pieces, ground the album before and after the heavenly middle portion. That stretch begins in earnest with “Tongue of the Bell,” whose ghostly swing of a great bell rings out as scrambled radio violin rises from the fug. A pure vocal (Neilson’s?) reaches up with glints of pure heaven as voice, drone and violin meld into an atheistic earthly. Miniature Mascis’ and Hendrix’s are drafted in for “Black Herman”s scrabble of bells and squeaking toy dawn chorus.

Neilson, of course, has help in all of this: fellow Daniel Padden affiliate and bouzouki player Chris Hladowski shows up, as well as indie stalwarts Christina Carter and Isobel Campbell, but it’s is most definitely his vision that runs the show—few artists are putting traditional folk songs up against bursts of sky-reaching drone so effortlessly. Directing Hand are bringing a history to the genre of free-playing and a deeper energy to traditional forms.

The quaking opening of “Hangman (trad)” soon opens into a warm rolling backing with a delicate female lead vocal (and a male harmony that melts beautifully in and out of earshot) lying in-between layers of free swirl. Sounding like its ably carrying four backing tracks, it’s an incredible blending of styles. Even though the closing “Lowlands (trad)” is the most scripted piece here (think Vibracathedral Orchestra on the mellowest hookah at the party), it manages to come across as gently homespun and endearingly ramshackle. The churn behind the vocals and the mini-choir serve the traditional ballad as well as any acoustic-strapped smoky pub players.

With Directing Hand, Neilson has managed to unpick the threads of traditional music to create an album that shares the ecstasy of the communal communion.