Pullman – III

The word ‘supergroup’ is synonymous with larger-than-life characters, duelling egos, and the resounding sense of disappointment that accompanies a bloated record that is less than the sum of its parts. Supergroups are rarely a showcase for equity, harmony, and teamwork. But when they are? You’re going to want to pay attention.

Formed in the late nineties, Pullman brought together luminaries from Chicago’s post-rock scene; Ken “Bundy K.” Brown (Tortoise, Gastr Del Sol), Curtis Harvey (Rex), Chris Brokaw (Come, Codeine), and Doug McCombs (Tortoise, EleventhDream Day) were joined later by renowned percussionist Tim Barnes. The collective released two albums via Thrill Jockey—1998’s Turnstyles & Junkpiles and 2001’s Viewfinder—both of which are characterised by intimate acoustic instrumentation and fragile finger-picked guitar.

I strongly suspect that Pullman’s book would have remained closed, were it not for the devastating news of Tim Barnes’ 2021 diagnosis with early-onset Alzheimer’s disease, at the age of 54. III’s origins can be traced back to daily collaborative sessions between Barnes and Ken Brown in the aftermath of that crushing blow, which organically developed into a new Pullman album. This period also yielded two solo records by Barnes, featuring a cast of collaborators that is a testament to how respected and beloved Barnes is in his community.

Sonically, III is a subtly different beast to its predecessors, its six tracks more abstract and textural in nature; like our memories, it feels intangible at times. But what III does have in common with the band’s original run is its strong sense of chemistry and closeness. This is a supergroup sans ego.

At a shade over two minutes, the mournful “Bray” is a superb introduction to III, with its flickering, distorted melody seemingly engaged in a futile struggle to cut through the gloom. In contrast, “Weightless” feels cautiously optimistic, but even then, its varied percussion and shimmering guitars are countered by eerie slides and ominous bass notes. “Thirteen,” meanwhile, feels more like the Pullman of old, with its pleasantly meandering acoustic guitars evoking the work of Leo Kottke, a regular touchstone for the group.

III’s longest track, “October” (13 minutes 27 seconds, no less) is its dream-like centrepiece—post-rock’s trademark ‘build and release’ blueprint in miniature, with dissonant bursts of instrumentation adding to a sense of somnolence. And finally, there is “Kabul,” which is surely the easiest gateway into Pullman’s universe, even if its experimental folk leanings aren’t wholly representative of III as a complete work. Fans of last year’s Constant Follower record will find a lot to love here.

Pullman won’t be for everyone. Their quiet, understated charms reward the kind of focused listening that is seemingly less fashionable in this screen-addled age. III might not lend itself to modern playlist culture, but if you’re looking for a 2026 release to truly invest in, its exquisite beauty will reward your time and efforts many times over.

III is out now via Western Vinyl.