Will Ackerman: Conferring With the Moon (1986) There are certain albums that become more than simply another addition to a music collection. They quietly establish themselves as landmarks, opening doors to unfamiliar musical landscapes and forever changing the way we listen. For me, *Conferring With the Moon* was one of those records.  Although it was not Will Ackerman's first album, it was my introduction to his music during the early days of my own journey into ambient, new age, and contemporary instrumental music. Like many listeners discovering the Windham Hill catalog in the early 1990s, I came to this album without any expectations beyond the reputation that surrounded the label. What I found instead was something far more enduring: an album that valued atmosphere over virtuosity, conversation over performance, and silence as much as sound.  Nearly thirty-five years later, those qualities remain just as compelling.

By the time *Conferring With the Moon* arrived in 1986, Ackerman had already established himself as both an accomplished guitarist and the founder of Windham Hill Records. Earlier albums such as *In Search of the Turtle's Navel* and *Past Light* had introduced audiences to his distinctive fingerstyle approach, but this recording marked an important turning point. Rather than placing his guitar at the center of every composition, Ackerman began allowing the music to breathe through a remarkable ensemble of musicians whose individual voices became just as important as his own. 

That decision transformed the album into something larger than a solo guitar record. 

Listening today, what strikes me most is how naturally these collaborations unfold. The contributions of bassist Michael Manring, cellist Eugene Friesen, pianist Philip Aaberg—whose recent passing on May 23 adds a poignant resonance to his presence here—Lyricon player Chuck Greenberg, violinist Charlie Bisharat, and the other musicians never feel like guest appearances designed to add color for its own sake. Instead, they become participants in an ongoing musical conversation. Each instrument enters with patience and purpose, adding another layer without disturbing the quiet emotional center that defines the album. 

In retrospect, *Conferring With the Moon* also captures what many listeners now regard as the classic Windham Hill ensemble. These musicians would go on to become familiar names throughout the label's catalog, but here they gather in a way that feels almost effortless. The result is an album that reflects not only Ackerman's growth as a composer but also Windham Hill's emergence as a genuine artistic community.

The title itself offers perhaps the best clue to the album's character. 

This is unmistakably night music. 

Not melancholy, nor overtly romantic, but reflective in the way only the late evening can be. The title track unfolds slowly, inviting the listener into a world where time seems to loosen its grip. Rather than rushing toward memorable hooks or dramatic climaxes, Ackerman allows each phrase to linger, as though the music itself were pausing to consider its next thought. It is an album built on quiet confidence. 

That sense of space may be its greatest achievement. 

One of the enduring characteristics of Ackerman's writing is his willingness to let silence become part of the composition. Individual notes are allowed to resonate naturally before another phrase gently emerges. The pauses are never empty; they are filled with anticipation, reflection, and possibility. Long before I had the vocabulary to describe ambient music, this album was teaching me that space could be every bit as expressive as melody. 

It was a lesson that stayed with me and helped shape my own listening habits as I ventured deeper into ambient, electronic, world, and contemporary instrumental music. 

Several compositions stand among the strongest of Ackerman's career. "Lago de Montañas" quietly broadens the album's palette through subtle South American influences, while "Climbing in Geometry" demonstrates the remarkable chemistry between the ensemble players. "The Last Day at the Beach" unfolds with cinematic grace, building emotional depth without ever becoming sentimental. Even "Processional," revisited here with Chuck Greenberg's expressive Lyricon, feels transformed into something more expansive than earlier versions. 

Yet it would be difficult to single out one composition as the album's defining moment because *Conferring With the Moon* succeeds as a complete listening experience. Each piece seems to prepare the emotional ground for the next, creating a journey that is greater than the sum of its individual tracks. In an era increasingly shaped by playlists and shuffled listening, it serves as a gentle reminder of the artistic value of experiencing an album from beginning to end. 

Looking back now, it also becomes clear that *Conferring With the Moon* represents a bridge in Ackerman's artistic evolution. His earliest recordings were largely intimate solo guitar performances rooted in folk traditions. The albums that followed would become increasingly orchestral, cinematic, and collaborative. This recording stands beautifully between those two worlds. The guitar remains the emotional anchor, but it no longer carries the entire narrative alone. 

Perhaps that explains why the album has aged so gracefully. 

Some listeners have observed that its mid-1980s digital production carries the sonic fingerprints of its era, and there is some truth to that observation. Technology inevitably leaves its mark on every recording. But what has endured is something far more important than production techniques. The emotional honesty of the performances, the generosity between the musicians, and the patience with which every composition unfolds continue to resonate in ways that feel timeless. 

Listening again today, I realize that I wasn't simply discovering Will Ackerman all those years ago. I was discovering an entirely different philosophy of music. This was music that invited stillness instead of demanding attention. Music that trusted listeners enough to slow down, to listen closely, and to find meaning in subtlety rather than spectacle. 

That invitation feels just as relevant today as it did in the early 1990s. 

For those already familiar with Will Ackerman's remarkable catalog, *Conferring With the Moon* remains one of his defining artistic statements. For newcomers, it serves as a perfect doorway into both his music and the broader world that Windham Hill helped create. It captures a moment when extraordinary musicians chose collaboration over individual display, allowing each voice to contribute to something richer than any one performer could have achieved alone. 

As my own introduction to Will Ackerman, this album became one of the stepping stones that led me toward the music that would eventually inspire Ambient Visions itself. Over three decades later, I still hear the same quiet invitation whenever these recordings begin. Slow down. Listen deeply. Leave room for silence. In a world that rarely encourages any of those things, *Conferring With the Moon* remains not only a beautiful album but an enduring reminder that sometimes the most meaningful conversations are the ones spoken in whispers.

Reviewed by Michael Foster for Ambient Visions

Tracklist:

1. Conferring With The Moon    7:31

2. Improv 2    3:28

3. Lago De Montañas (Mountain Lake)    4:10

4. Big Thing In The Sky (For Jess) 6:35

5. Climbing In Geometry    6:08

6. The Last Day At The Beach   6:52

7. Singing Crocodile   3:21

8. Shape Of The Land   3:21

9. Conferring With The Moon (Solo) 2:20