Rob Burger’s keyboard work can be heard in everything from Guggenheim showcases to the blockbuster film Ocean’s 8 -- in addition to albums by John Zorn, Laurie Anderson, and Iron & Wine -- but the moonlit compositions he spins up on his own may be his most compelling work.

His newest solo venture, Marching With Feathers, departs from the controlled exotica and kosmische of 2019’s The Grid towards a genreless seesaw of electrified apprehension and capacious piano rumination. Piano-based tracks like “Figurine” and “Still” draw the listener into a realm of quiet contemplation, while arid psyche vignettes like “Library Science” and “Hotel For Saints” imbue the collection with a vital groove, conjuring images of a searing, high desert plain.

At the core of the album is a central dichotomy between strength and gentleness, power and vulnerability. By uniting these seemingly opposing concepts, Burger catches you off guard by carving trails that turn from mirage to stark reality at every bend. As the album draws to a close, the listener feels as though they’re waking from a dream, pensive yet determined to rise, like a lost hiker reaching a vista - or a clenched fist full of feathers.