Review Summary: Rachel's' defining musical work and a milestone in neo-classical/post rock.
The sound of neo-classical band Rachel's is often compared to film scoring, which is an appropriate characterization in a number of ways. The most obvious of these would be that Rachel's music is instrumental work driven by what seems like a purely thematic approach; it is easy to listen to Rachel's and imagine the songs soaring along under dramatic plotlines and interweaving dialogues. But another reason it is accurate is that scoring for films often seems to be a hit-or-miss process where any number of things with the film or the music can make the result wholly unremarkable. In a way the same applies for Rachel's' music: there is no drama accompanying these pieces so they have to work double-time to give the listener something to latch onto and associate with, and that can often times be hit-or-miss for them.
With
The Sea and the Bells however, it is not an issue. The album does such a worthy job of invoking something within the listener that it seems more prudent to make comparisons to opera than film, a medium where the music has even more of a driving force than the actions being portrayed, except in this case, there is no action at all, only the music, rendering it a concert piece by nature. All we are given as a theme are the title and the song names, but if even those were barred from these compositions, the underlying agendas of these songs are so well-presented that the titles almost feel like afterthoughts. There is such an overwhelming sense of longing, despair, grandeur, hope and loneliness in tracks such as "Tea Merchants", "With More Air Than Words" and "Letters To Home" that perhaps the actual ideas that birthed them are not even important; like any good symphony or concerto, they are so evocative to the listener that they take on a life of their own.
To that end,
The Sea and the Bells also feels like one glorious idea in itself. There are two extra-long tracks here ("Lloyd's Register" at 9:49 and "Cypress Branches" at 7:44) but picking them out as noteworthy tracks feels patently ridiculous since they do not stand out any more than the other tracks here by virtue of their lengths. In fact, the entire record shifts between tracks unnoticeably save perhaps for the jarring noisiness of "Sirens", which isn't so much out of place as suddenly and memorably ominous.
The Sea and the Bells is not an album where you would necessarily pick out a single track to hear once in a while, it really is a lengthy experience that seems to pay off more in whole listen-throughs than song samplings. This definitely works for the album rather than against it.
All in all, it is almost impossible to find anything derogatory to say about Rachel's'
The Sea and the Bells. You know a band has perfected its craft when you have to deliberately mull over their work, searching for some possible imperfection, and there just isn't anything to nitpick.
The Sea and the Bells stands as Rachel's' masterpiece; whether they can surpass it is up to your positive or negative outlook, though outdoing or even equalling such a heartfelt and seamless piece of musicianship would undoubtebly be an incredible feat for any band.
