Colin Stetson - When we were that what wept for the sea
52Hz
Released May 12th
Almost exactly ten years ago, I stumbled my way into an afternoon Sled Island show, not knowing the artist, and just along for the ride. A term like “mind-blowing” always runs the risk of hyperbole, as in most cases it’s used for experiences that perhaps did not quite literally blow anyone’s mind. But hyperbolic or not, I still tell anyone who will listen, Colin Stetson was the most mind-blowing show I’ve ever been to. “Oh, what’s he like?” they’ll ask. And then I say something truly underwhelming like, “well, he sort of plays the saxophone.”
To say Colin Stetson plays the saxophone (bass, alto, and an array of other horned and/or reeded instruments) is not untrue, but it’s also not really fair. Find a friend (unfamiliar with Stetson’s work), sit them down in front of a speaker, and drop the needle (or open Spotify) on When we were that what wept for the sea, and see how long it takes them to guess where most of these sounds are coming from. Functioning as sort of a shaman - Stetson uses his entire body (being?) to fuse himself to and animate his instrument in a way I wouldn’t have dreamed possible until I saw and heard it for myself.
Released May 12 on his own Label, 52Hz, When we were that what wept for the sea continues Colin Stetson’s vocation of pushing the bleeding edge of music to create a sweepingly beautiful, haunting, and tender record. Stretching the limits of circular breathing, embouchure, and other advanced techniques outside the realm of my understanding, Stetson utilizes the entirety of the instrument, and himself, to create an incredible array of sounds, tones, and beats from across the sonic and rhythmic spectrum. The saxophone keys become drum pads, the elbow and horn become droning bellows, the reed and mouthpiece create microtonal melodies, and his throat produces wails, hums and laments. And just for clarity - these aren’t looped layers adding onto one other - Stetson is making them happen simultaneously, repeatedly, magically.
When we were that what wept for the sea strikes that elusive balance between being fully experimental and innovative while delivering enough tenderness and melodic foothold to maintain a sense of place and connection. It is an ambient and immediate record that spins dreamlike, mostly wordless stories. From desolate, sparse gray seascapes to teeming, firefly nights, the album builds entire worlds with each song. Perhaps intentionally influenced by the album name, cover art, and song titles, When we were that what wept for the sea evokes oceanic, aquatic imagery. At times the record creates a sense of drifting with whalesong through unmapped depths, at other moments we’re pulled into the effervescent, joyful shallows crammed with life, at points, we’re drawn into isolated lighthouses silently beaconing to ships that never come home.
Chances are, even if you’ve never listened to a Colin Stetson record, you’ve heard him play: he’s collaborated with the likes of Tom Waits, The Arcade Fire, Bon Iver, and a plethora of others among your favorite artists, in addition to composing scores for films (e.g. Hereditary) and the video game Red Dead Redemption 2. On When we were that what wept for the sea, Stetson expands upon the musicianship, artistry, and sonic storytelling that has kept him in continual high demand.
- Chris Lammiman
