Losing Myself to New Projects From Cate Kennan and seventhirtyatmorning: An Offbeat by CFUV Review
‘Shadows’ by Cate Kennan via bandcamp.com.
I’ve been indulging in the seductive slowness of a summer evening. In nights where all there is to do is watch the colour fade out of the sky and feel the heat fade out of the air. Often, during these nights, I search for its perfect pairing. What drink best complements the dusty grey sky with its faint lingering tendrils of day? What book is most evocative of the way the heat radiates off my body into the cool air?
My effort to find music that matches a particular, finite moment has kept me coming back to two brief, captivating records released in June. While the digital DNA of underground rapper Seventhirtyatmorning’s One Man Band might seem wildly different to the folk soundscapes of Cate Kennan’s latest album, Shadows, my time spent with the albums revealed what they shared: Surprising beauty through their fleeting intricacy, much like the summer night.
The environs unfolded around me into intricate, delicate layers. Each time my gaze wandered back towards the sky, the clouds had shifted in their never-ending shuffle. Bird calls mingled with the wind whistle, the tango of tousled leaves. While the last minutes of sun sit silent on my face, darkness whispers its hello.
Choppy samples, massive synths, cluttered drums, sweetly melodic vocals, and sporadic noises come together in Seventhirtyatmorning’s song “CLOUDS N RAIN.” The fully self-produced album maintains this blistering intensity throughout, stacking elements on top of another into full arrangements.
While the layers of Shadows are more understated, they are certainly still numerous; Kennan finds warmth and nostalgia in crafting auditory scenes. I particularly enjoy “Moonlight,” which slowly adds new elements as the song progresses.
There may not be any singular component to these songs which jumps out at you. Musical strength is found when they are assembled, with each piece made better by its peers. While listening, I can’t help but think of the harmonious symphony my senses take in over those golden hours of the day. All the scenery’s combined factors culminate in much the same way as the elements of a song.
The complicated track constructions of these albums mean that each listen-through leaves me picking out new pieces of each song, such as hi-hat patterns I hadn’t previously noticed, or analog warbles which pricked my ears in a particular way. In the same way, I seem to find new things to notice around me, even as I stare out at the same view yet another time. Does the sun always hit that way? When it diffuses through the willow tree?
Slightly sweet summer air. The smell of earth, of some distant sweet flowers, and berries floats on the breeze. I remember past harvests where half the yield was lost as snacks. I remember every time I’ve watched the sun cross the horizon.
The dreamlike landscapes of sound that Kennan lays out allow for a pleasant exploration of the past. Her songs play with memory; each note carries some vague reminder of the past. In the same way, I find myself recollecting days past with each trilled chickadee call, each distant barking dog. There is something bittersweet about even the happiest memories. Bittersweet, a conflicted word, one at odds with itself.
One Man Band is bittersweet, too. Its glistening, sharp production is paired against an undeniable emotional vocal performance. Phone calls from well-wishing friends are interspersed throughout.
Both musical projects feel as concerned with the past as they are with the future, spending as much time with what happened as what might be still to come.
I’m alone, but I’d sit in this silence even if I weren’t. What could possibly be said to accompany the moment? Living in this inimitable instant, words lose their meaning.
Vocals in these two albums exist beyond their utility as a vehicle for lyrical delivery; I would even argue that the lyricism is not the main focus of the words sung. Instead, vocals act as a phonic framework, sitting deep within the melodic makeup of tracks. Processing and effects soak the performances, but this serves to elevate rather than obfuscate. There is such a great instrumental quality to be found in the autotuned melancholic crooning from Seventhirtyatmorning and the hushed near whisper Kennan often employs. Such quiet emotion. This isn’t to say that the lyricism is lacking in either case, but it was a secondary element in my listening, one which heightened the other elements of each track.
It seemed to pass in an instant, moving around me in a gentle whirl. Washing machine sky swirling its pastel garments: pinks, purples, blues, and oranges. The cycle ended all too soon.
There is something to be said for the effectiveness of a short album, allowing you just enough time to settle in without ever losing your attention. Both these projects sit right around half an hour, and make good use of their limited time. Each track is a vignette, where new ideas and sounds are introduced, but the atmosphere of each respective album holds strong throughout. I feel the same of these mythical nights; time shifts the scene, small changes happen constantly, but they happen smoothly. There is a remarkable ephemeral quality which left me hitting play yet again as soon as the last track had finished.
Next time you find yourself placid on a porch, reposed on a patio, or admiring the view off of a veranda, that you consider putting on one, or both, of these albums.
