Review Summary: A Sunday drive.
I’m sure you’ve heard the expression ‘the best things in life happen by accident’ at some point. Without getting too personal, I could use my fatherhood (still feels weird to say that, wow) as an example. The highs and lows I experienced couldn’t possibly fit on one page, and I won't get into the messy details, but I can say I’m a believer. I believe in the magic of unintended beauty. I believe in cherishing the unexpected. I believe a true test of your character is how you respond to this. It takes an open mind to turn an inconvenience into something celebratory, which is precisely what electronic composer/field recorder Jon Brooks has done with
Shapwick. The background events aren’t particularly engaging in themselves, really. Brooks was driving, took a wrong turn, found himself in a strange neighbourhood, and essentially made the most of the energy it projected. This isn’t important. Knowing the story behind the album’s inspiration can give credence to how you interpret it, but it ultimately defeats the purpose of interpreting music, if only slightly. Brooks was able to perceive his journey in a unique light, so it’s fair to follow suit. This is all very long-winded, forgive me. What I’m getting at is:
Shapwick is a vast collection of fertile sounds, demanding patience and a willingness to venture off the beaten path. Like many pieces of art arising from sheer circumstance, it is painfully honest - more on that later.
While
Shapwick could be dubbed a concept album, the narrative is about as linear as
Last Year at Marienbad. There’s little rhyme or reason as the songs often contradict themselves. The synth-piano marriage on “Please Drive Carefully” evokes feelings of wonder coupled with gut-churning anxiety. “Winter’s Hamlet” features a soothing synth line accompanied by soft woodwinds serving as a respite, only to be juttered by “Echolocation”, aptly titled of course. If “Winter’s Hamlet” was to lull you, “Echolocation” is a sensory overload, and the sonar blips bounce around in your skull like a rubber ball, heightening your awareness. Tracks like “In The Slow Cold Air” utilize abstract music box tones to nostalgic effect, only to be bastardized by “…little apple…”, a fragmented song with feelings of doubt. “Narrow Lanes End” resembles dungeon synth music - think less
Doom, more SNES-era
Final Fantasy - featuring gorgeous undertones and echoing synths. Closing track “Neap Tide” has a gothic-americana saunter, as though you’d expect Jay Munly to be lurking around the corner. All of these descriptions don’t serve much purpose apart from typifying Jon Brooks’ love of sounds, many of which clash together. It would be dishonest to say
Shapwick is a cohesive piece of work based on the musicality itself, as it features an assortment of sounds having no business with one another, yielding various responses. Certain tracks elevate your senses, while others dull them. As a whole, the album is aimless, and I say that with utmost praise.
As mentioned before,
Shapwick is honest, if such a thing exists in terms of interpretable art. It wanders, promising no ultimate conclusions or lessons to be learned. I’ve read enough reviews to expect disappointment when the author promises something life-affirming, only to hit a brick wall upon my own listening experience. I don’t expect anything anymore, but neither does
Shapwick. It revels in the unexpected, savouring each moment as a unique experience to be cherished, not worried about where it’s supposed to end up. I know it’s cheesy to compare an album to life in and of itself, but bear with me. Jon Brooks has created something special, in that it parallels life more than he could have possibly intended it to. It’s varied, unpredictable, directionless, and beautifully flawed. There are brief epiphanies countered by dreary intervals, plodding along in slow-motion in a steady state of asking ‘what just happened?’ and ‘where am I headed?’. As a fully grown adult, I’ve never been more confused in my life, and
Shapwick is none the wiser. It doesn’t pretend to rectify this - rather, it goes through the motions with me, providing means to appreciate the little things along the way. Individual tracks are composed with care, but the overarching concept is happenstance, resulting from a simple wrong turn in unfamiliar territory. The result is an evocative mix of instrumentals, field recordings, and tonal expressions. Still, it shouldn’t sound
this good. It just doesn't make sense, but I'm too busy enjoying the scenery to care anymore.
