Thursday, 2 November 2017

SONGS THEY NEVER PLAY ON THE RADIO

1. Torn Sail's Masterpiece This Short Sweet Life, finally


“THE MOVEMENT … represents in some sense a revolt against the hard mechanical conventional life and its insensibility to beauty (quite another thing to ornament). It is a protest against that so-called industrial progress which produces shoddy wares, the cheapness of which is paid for by the lives of their producers and the degradation of their users. It is a protest against the turning of men into machines, against artificial distinctions in art, and against making the immediate market value, or possibility of profit, the chief test of artistic merit. It also advances the claim of all and each to the common possession of beauty in things common and familiar, and would awaken the sense of this beauty, deadened and depressed as it now too often is, either on the one hand by luxurious superfluities, or on the other by the absence of the commonest necessities and the gnawing anxiety for the means of livelihood; not to speak of the everyday uglinesses to which we have accustomed our eyes, confused by the flood of false taste, or darkened by the hurried life of modern towns in which huge aggregations of humanity exist, equally removed from both art and nature and their kindly and refining influences.”
Walter Crane, “Of The Revival of Design and Handicraft”, in Arts and Crafts Essays, by Members of the Arts and Crafts Exhibition Society, 1893

This blog in part exists to promote Torn Sail. They create truly transformative music and their brand of melancholia has a heart and integrity that makes this album so emotional it hurts to listen to. I'm reminded of the arts and crafts movement with their sailing vessel motifs and deep distrust of the machine made. However, 90% of the world's trade is by sea, so to listen to this album strictly with some romantic past in mind would be foolhardy. Today, factories, and harsh conditions exist on the water more than on the land. Everything on this album sounds authentic, natural and timeless. Not since the mighty Talk Talk has a band inhabited their own musical world in such a unique way.

The opener, the emancipatory Birds should need no introduction. The slide guitars and organ brew the listener into a state of near nirvana as you leave the doldrums of your existence behind. Bird as a metaphor for potentiality and boat, as our exploited real self, is strong imagery. Natural states denied coz we 'never have our work done.' The anticipatory fear is apparent when you press play on track two, but worry not Ricochets is a majestic song. Huw's strengthened delivery acts as a counterpart to Emma's smooth as silk vocals. This is not some pastiche of Lee and Nancy, but an authentic contrast that evokes the red rocks of the canyon. A third voice, the acclaimed Mark Lanegan, helps the song realize its full potential by reaching tones that kick the desert sand in your eye.


Time and the travel of, both in life and imagined, are recurring themes. Next up is Self- Medication. A live favourite, which recorded, sounds more intense. I'm hearing another recurrent theme of being neither land locked nor airborne, but inescapably trapped in what it means to be human. The wails and lolloping percussion hark back to the folk tradition, but again the organ bursts between the song and especially the adult lullabies into an energized new life.



The Bird is once more a metaphor for what we could be if we were free, not 'chained to the factory.' The torn sail is a damaged wing. By now it's apparent that we're not just listening to what Rob Bright christened Balearic gloop but a fully realized concept album. 


A shame then that the next song Leave This World Behind is straight up pop with conventional registers that are reminiscent of Doves and Coldplay's more brazen attempts at radio play. It is inoffensive but not my cup of tea and luckily doesn't last too long. 





Fortunately, the next track is simply sublime. I first heard Treasure in a seek magic mix and heard of this fully realized version after talking with Huw in the summer of 2013. (A recurring theme of my own has been to type realized a lot. Quite by mistake.) It is basically the single version with a beautiful strung out coda featuring the mesmerizing vocals of Rachel Foster. What was already an achingly beautiful song is now something else, something more. Warm washes of colour and a vocal fragility that mirrors Huw's treatment perfectly meet the romantic imagery of a boat after a galaxy of sleep (lived experience) on a wondrous journey. Transcendence has never sounded so sweet. 

Gains on Gains displays an urgency of purpose. Abetted by BJ Smith on Moog, it eventually climaxes before giving way to another wondrous musical passage that unsurprisingly sounds more aquatic than astral. It both anchors and reinforces the songs confused refrain 'we fight for ourselves.' It's just a song, after all, but a song that closes a modern masterpiece. 




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