Phil Tomsett & Aaron Martin: At Sea
Fluid Audio

A myriad of factors determines the form an artwork eventually takes, At Sea no different. A major influence on the project was Phil Tomsett's recent move to the south-east coast of England, a bright and naturally breezy setting where, in his words, “giant seagulls roam the sea-front like packs of wild dogs.” Regular walks along a particular part of the coastline heightened his awareness of the sea's indifference to the dramas that play out in human lives, as well as an appreciation for its enigmatic nature. As a title, At Sea literally refers to the place where it was created but also figuratively to being in a state of psychological instability.

Another element that factored into the creative process was Virginia Woolf's To the Lighthouse, which Tomsett was reading and which resonated all the more because the writer had lived in the area he now called home. Wishing to fashion his own version of her ‘stream of consciousness' technique, he wrote text he had actor Lizzie McPhee deliver. Other elements critical to the album's makeup are accordion and cello, the former an instrument Tomsett happened upon when was staying with a friend in London and the latter contributed by Aaron Martin, already a collaborator with Tomsett on his 2020 Fluid Audio release The Sound of Someone Leaving.

No one should be startled, then, by the fact that the forty-five-minute result blends cello, accordion, spoken word, acoustic guitar, synthesizer, and field recordings into an intricate, tapestry-like soundscape. Anyone searching for a parallel might look to Robin Rimbaud's 1997 set The Garden is Full of Metal as a close cousin for the way it likewise uses voice (filmmaker Derek Jarman's in this case) with acoustic and electronic sounds to present a vivid sound portrait. Yet while Rimbaud's treatment might come to mind when At Sea begins with the hushed utterance “Breathe in, breathe out,” Tomsett and Martin's just as quickly carves out its own space when cello enters alongside an engulfing flood of sea sounds. The scene set, McPhee further brands At Sea with its own distinct character by musing, “I imagine I'm at sea … I am the sea … I'm with the sea … I'm next to the sea…” The material patiently advances thereafter, swerving between painterly instrumental passages and ones dotted with querulous spoken word episodes, including three “Sea Transmission” interludes.

Accordion chords illuminate a number of parts, “White Shrieks” and “You are the Sea” among them, and Martin's playing never fails to amplify the haunting quality of the music, his resonant expressions consistently intensifying the melancholy and sometimes cryptic tone of the material. Particularly impressive is the artfulness with which he merges elements and the smoothness with which transitions occur. Consider, as an example, how seamlessly “The Distant Destination” blossoms from abstraction into a forlorn musical sequence featuring acoustic guitar and cello. An ever-enticing stimulant for the ears, the work's presented in thirteen sections but registers as an interconnected, multi-scenic whole.

January 2023