hakobune – solitude (Polar Seas, 2020)

I am brimming, filled with things I want to say, sentiments I want to share, love I wish to express. It’s so much, so complicated, that often it feels hopeless. How am I ever to convey the totality of this complexity within, amorphous and intangible as it is: who am I even to share it with?

In nature, nothing is demanded of you: the spaces you walk through or swim in or fly over expect nothing, are incapable of receipt. In a way it’s a shame that the landscapes we love so dearly cannot hear or feel the things we profess of them, and yet this asymmetry presents a unique relationship. In a beautiful but indifferent world, that which I resonate with the most and feel the most comfortable in the presence of, is nature itself.

There is nothing in a place that could change the way we feel or alter our affection towards its subtle graces; they give so freely and suffuse us with a unreciprocated gratitude. This is the essence of “oichi”‘s stunning 21 minute overture, an arc of drone brilliance that leaps out of the land itself, a world of forms and moments poured out for us through our eyes and into our heart.

In its span I am not me, I am more, an intertwining of self and space where I am free to feel in all my fragile chaos. We are more than the sum of our parts; the sound is beautiful to me, because of me, because of this connection, of everything I hold inside, of every moment that has led to this. Inside of it I can be anything, feel however, express everything, free to pour back that which is impossible to say.

Here I am again with you, on the cusp of unrealised expression and the boundless yet uncrossable gulf. I can’t distil for you where¬†solitude¬†takes me, but this time I don’t have to since hakobune will take you there himself.