In Summer, sunrise is an elusive beast. There are no end of sunsets for those of us who enjoy the later hours of the day, but the early climb is not one I frequently witness at this time of year. This is a shame: I think I slightly prefer the opening throes of sunrise over sunset, the slow peeling back of the darkness and the surging of golden light over a cool land.
Poemme’s careful little Moments In Golden Light is a nice reminder of daybreak for me then, a chance to experience its luminary machinations that are otherwise off limits for later risers. Like the golden hour of its origin, it is quiet and cerebral, moving at a not-yet-awake pace as the Sun’s sustenance comes into force. Field recordings corner each track: endless watery burblings and babblings flow nearby in secluded “Awning ~ Under The Willow Tree”; birdsong begins to awaken softly in opening “At The Gates of Dawn”; whilst “With The Changing of the Leaves” rustles and vibrates with a complex, evolving energy.
The music that sustains the sounds of the forest is light and airy in character, barely moving in hushed drones and other sweetnesses. The opener floats Barwick-like on barely there angelic coos, soft breaths that emerge from the developing skyline as the world rotates into the Sun’s arms. Interior “Awning ~ Under The Willow Tree” has a similar vibe in its secluded tones, the land beyond the shade beginning to ripple and wave as the Earth heats in the light of a new day. These fall slightly at odds to “Forest Hymn” and “With The Changing of the Leaves”, whose focuses seem more grounded.
The former fills with spacious drones but linear progressions, carefully following the manicured path through the wild and still-dim trees about it, a touch of hesitation or tenative feeling entering this realm now frequently outside of human comfort. The latter, and indeed as it progresses into closing “A Small Procession”, begins to feel the day advance into fullness. Piano trickles out, a few shards of light cracking through the canopy as the trees switch to photosynthesis again, absorbing the new found light to continue where yesterday left off.
As we leave the early hours there’s a strange crooning mournfulness at its passing in the closer, but its wafting fluted sequences and bass proddings add a gentle rhythm to its long-form passage into the fullness of day, embracing its habitual motions. For a precious time we were suspended in a lush world brimming with rich light, night having been broken yet day not having truly begun, and what a glorious moment that was.