(07.28.06) There’s a bit too much glitch in Leafcutter John’s latest record for it to be easily labelled as “folktronica,” just as there is too much emotive storytelling to fully relegate it to the electronic side of the aisle. The Forest and the Sea is a narrative, tracing the journey of a man and woman as they get lost in the forest, spend the night beneath the dense trees, and venture onward to the sea at sunrise. All in all, it’s a story straight out of folklore, but John Burton infuses the tale with such a wealth of experimental noises and inexplicable hiccups of sound that the piece metamorphoses into a work of aural meta-fiction.
Ripe with field recordings collected in Greece, Sweden and the United Kingdom, these tracks transport the listener into the landscape of John’s tale. “Maria in the Forest” opens with a clatter of hooves and a hint of child voices before wandering off the path to the accompaniment of a drum kit, cello and accordion. Resolutely innocent and sweet, “Maria in the Forest” is haunted by whispers of electronics like a fine mist threading the narrow tops of the tall trees. The
last minute and a half, however, take on a menacing tone as the electronics overwhelm the folk melody. The cello yawns and groans as mechanical squirts of sound burp, blasting away the guileless mood. “Dream I,” the opening of the dream sequence triptych is a bit of acoustic melancholia, a bedtime song wherein John lays the wandering pair down to sleep. Their slumber is haunted by stabs of location recordings and angular bleats of electronic noise as if deep space signals are being beamed directly into their slumbering brains (“Dream II”). “Dream III” is a continuation of “Dream I,” a variation that includes a full band backing the emotive singer.
The magic of The Forest and the Sea is the seamless way that Leafcutter John moves from delicately crafted folk songs to experimental bursts of noise. The story unfolds both through the musical narrative and as mood pieces, instrumental interludes of chaotic composition and experimental story-telling. The instrumentation of “In the Morning” is no different that the preceding “Dream III,” but the digital editing turns the sounds into a menacing whirl of staggered sound. John’s voice is tinged with digital delay, the stringed instruments have been deconstructed so that their individual notes can be stretched and layered with reverb, the accordion warps in and out of phase and the guitars are looped back upon themselves so as to make swirling walls of sound. “Now” is filled with the sound of the shoreline of the Greek islands of Serifos and Alonisos, backdrop to a final chaotic composition of violins and guitar (their sounds pulled and stretched like soft wax). This is the tumultuous soundtrack
to drowning, the thunderous wash of waves and water over your head. As the characters of the story sink beneath the glittering surface, becoming sea creatures, John inserts a final verse and chorus before everything fades to a recording of a placid coastline — birds in the trees, waves on the shore.
It’s no secret that I’m not one for vocals or songs that rhapsodize on the human condition, but The Forest and the Sea is such a mesmerizing combination of folk song and experimental theatre that I couldn’t tear myself away from it. More than just a fairy tale interspersed with bits of instrumental soundtrack, the record effortlessly slides from acoustic storytelling to ingenious experimentation allowing the listener to be part of the event and not just a witness to the retelling. Leafcutter John’s use of experimental composition and field recordings are hallmarks of the 21st century, sure, but they also allow us to experience the woods and the sea and the confusion of a life-altering dream. This is immersive stuff. Very highly recommended.
The Forest and the Sea is out now on Staubgold. Buy it at Amazon.com
