The mythical status afforded Rainy Day Raga might be a little bit much. Granted, when released in ’66, Peter Walker’s first album pre-dated much of the Eastern music obsession that sprung from San Francisco and came amidst Ravi Shankar working with his West Meets East recordings alongside Yehudi Menuhin. This historical (and musical) point can’t be excised from the consciousness surrounding Rainy Day Raga, but in some ways it aggrandizes a recording that might not warrant such accolades. Maybe.

I’ve never seen a physical copy of Rainy Day Raga and that can probably be explained by the fact that the record didn’t sell millions of copies. There’s also very little reason to plop down sums demanded by collectors to acquire the disc. But simply in the fact that this album exists in scarce numbers can work to explain the mystic reverence it has been imbued with over the years.

Moments of Walker’s first album do touch the pinnacle of fusing disparate guitar styles together. “White Wind” has enough elemental differences as to not have a pure genre as a home. But in this amalgam sits Walker’s style. Even as the guitar on “White Wind” moves from slow folk phrasing to a much more aggressive technique, Walker understands what fields he seeks to merge into one. Much of Rainy Day Raga though could be put to good use as atmospheric music – something to fill the silence – but not necessarily sounds to astound the ear.

Two years ago, Peter Walker played the Beachland Tavern in Cleveland. Entrancing were his stories while he pondered which guitar to ply for a particular composition. He reminisced about learning new stylistic concepts in Spain and about playing guitars in caves. But in that same show – as entertaining as it was – his playing was clearly sloppy, much in the same way that portions of Rainy Day Raga exhibit that sound. Oddly enough, these segments of music that seem less polished can be attributed to a style that Walker has developed over time – and still hasn’t finalized. But needless to say, Walker has embraced bizarre stylistic flourishes.

Continuing this impulse, Walker’s Echo of My Soul finds the guitarist submerging himself in Spanish guitar styles – at times a flamenco – as well as the language of that nation. It can be seen as either ethnomusicology or as a genuine dedication to something that the player finds beautiful. Disregarding the need for an answer to that, Walker maintains much the same tone on the guitar as he did forty-two years ago. Portions of “Sacred Mountain” seem closely related to “April in Cambridge” and “Bianca” from his ’66 recording. Within this new disc though, there isn’t too much stylistic variation. And examining Walker’s career as a whole, it’s easily noted that he hasn’t evolved much. But having concluded the want to successfully combine eastern and western guitar styles decades ago, it’s nothing less than endearing to watch such a doggedly dedicated musician work within the parameters that he has crafted for himself.