The Patience Fader, Mark Nelson's ninth album as Pan•American, appears to be even more stripped down than 2019's A Son, which was a set of country and folk deconstructions rather than the sort of shimmering dub-techno often associated with the project. Unlike A Son, The Patience Fader is entirely instrumental, and it mainly consists of glowing guitars playing lonesome, spaced-out melodies, sometimes accompanied by faint tape hissing, harmonica, or glistening effects. "Outskirts, Dreamlit" is the longest piece here, at six minutes, and it's a gorgeous meditation that feels bright and clear yet also softly mournful. "Corniel" loops and manipulates a harmonica so that it drones like a harmonium, and riddles it with subtle glitches, yet a feeling of deserted isolation still seeps out from its gentle wheezing. Several songs evoke grand emotions from the barest elements, like the ethereal country lament "The North Line" or the pond-floating reflection "Just a Story." Nelson switches to lap steel guitar for the more rustic "Nightwater," which perfectly matches its title, forming a perfect soundtrack to a quiet evening gazing out at a peaceful lake. "Harmony Conversion" bobs along with some faint thumping (most likely on the body of a guitar rather than a drum) as well as some sporadic ticking, along with some calmly curling guitar notes. "Memorizing, Memorizing" mainly consists of plucked guitars crumbling into space, and "Almost Grown" similarly builds atmospheric loops around a slow, sad guitar pattern until they lift off the ground. Because of its lack of vocals, The Patience Fader sounds a bit more open and free than A Son, and somehow manages to say more with less.