Chris Clark is a UK electronic musician that I watched closely over the years, gaining my attention after releasing his self-titled record in 2014. I heard about this record from a positive Pitchfork review and its placement in many publications’ year-end lists. It was winter, and I was searching for a new electronic music album for cold weather. Clark’s record fit the bill. The album cover has simple, yet effective imagery, with Clark’s body in all black, and face replaced by an overlay of a dark, dense forest. At first, I didn’t realize the photograph was of a forest, instead perceiving the photo as a darkened and fractured piece of stone. Either interpretation fits the music well, however, because the tracks have a similarly dark, cold, and heavy atmosphere.
I began listening to the record while up north visiting family. Winter made a strong appearance that year, as regular blizzards would sweep through and cover everything with snow. Stepping into the cold for a morning run and listening to the first track, “Ship Is Flooding” really set the mood with its wailing synthesizers and swirling organs. The next few songs are great companion pieces, with “Winter Linn” plodding along at a cold, calculated pace. The latter, more danceable piece, “Unfurla,” features a beautifully haunting piano breakdown that serves as a brief interlude between the track’s heavier rhythmic sections. I especially liked the compression that Clark applies to this track, giving the climax a tight, rubbery groove. Clark concludes the first half of the record with “Snowbird” —a gargantuan movement with rolling vocals that would otherwise overwhelm if not for the sudden compression introduced by staggering rhythms in the second half. Clark follows this desolation with perhaps the most melodically beautiful track, “Grit In The Pearl.” Danceable and strangely unpredictable, the track is rhythmically grounded yet features cinematic spurts of arpeggiating and disintegrating synthesizers that reverberate and sound like being stuck inside a corroding oyster shell.
The album unfortunately loses momentum after the midpoint. Warmer tracks “Beacon” and “Petroleum Tinged” sound out of place compared with those preceding, as well as compositionally feeling like interludes. Thankfully, “Silvered Iris” picks up the pace with its wonky beat changes, wishy-washy synthesizers, and villainous melodies. Nearing the end of my jog, I was exhausted running downhill, and the slippery beats fit well as I struggled to keep my balance on the icy roads. Clark’s penultimate closer, “There Is A Distance In You”, is a fantastic odyssey. I love how the bubbling tones and pulsating beats transform later into iron hot leads and crispy rhythms—whipping and warping, yet never losing presence in the center of the stereo spectrum.
I recommend trying Clark’s self-titled record if notes from the review pique your interest. While this isn’t my favorite album by Clark, I appreciate the middle ground struck between Clark’s love for crafting strange sounds and textures and creating engaging songs for getting lost in on a cold afternoon.
– Evan
Edited by: Seán Pierce