aaamusic | On 25, Apr 2011

We interrupt your undoubtedly sugar-filled holiday today to bring you Sleepingdog’s equally sweet yet much less sickly album, the lengthily-titled ‘With Our Heads In The Clouds And Our Hearts In The Fields’. This alone is an indicator of the album’s content: long, dreamlike sonic musings of tender yet subtly powerful proportions.

Opened by the grave and eerie ‘The Untitled Ballad Of You & Me’, dreampop meets minimalist composing in the cyclic piano melodies that are both hook and base for all manner of atmospherics to hang on. Central is Chantal Acada’s tuneful gossamer vocals, vulnerable as a young girl’s yet – in conjunction with the ominous subsonic hum that accompanies the piece, and the rising and falling church organ drone – she becomes a haunting spectral presence. The heavy echo veil over her vocals aids this image, and the plunging of melody into minor key creates a beautiful edge to the piece, almost cinematic in its eight-minute grandeur.

‘It Leaves Us Silent’ strays into more conventional territory, the lilting piano and ethereal vocals accompanied by a strummed acoustic guitar, however the piece is broken in the middle to suddenly reveal a tentative, mournful piano melody with atmospheric drones and string sections barely noticeable until the main song restarts, at which point string section accompaniment and sombre guitar combine and even work against one another rhythmically to create something simultaneously appealing and unnerving. This mesmeric piano heartbeat to the frail yet beautiful creature leads seamlessly onto the gentle ‘Polish Love Song’, with its stately, almost mournful romanticism. Easily one of the most exquisite tracks on offer, it blends neo-classical intrumental nous with a glacial yet soft vocal delivery that makes one think of Nico’s tender inner child being let free to speak. Slow piano tiptoes into slower, softer string sections and atmospheric single note hums, the final result reaching into the heart with cold yet gentle fingers. Despite its twee name, ‘Kitten Plays The Harmony Rocket’ is a sombre, even dark piece with much greater depth of tone. The church organs return, with a cavernous echo and slow-burning grace, even grandeur.

After a slight pause, we’re offered another recognisably pop-edged cut in the piano ballad ‘He Loved To See The World Through His Camera’. Minimalist orchestration takes a backseat to recognisable hooks, and a heart-on-sleeve lyricism made touching not only by its clear-eyed poetic honesty, but Acda’s charming, emotive delivery. Unfortunately, its companion ‘From Where It Was’ doesn’t quite pull off the arthouse/folk combination, with a buildup intro that drags a little too long, leading to a slightly too mainstream body of fingerpicked guitar and pastoral melody, and for all the subtle duetting the vocals (blending rather than clouting the listener with the contrast) can muster, I can’t help but feel this track is, at best, incongruous for all its craft. And this downer dogs the shimmering beauty of ‘Horse Lullaby’, and its similarity to earlier tracks means that although I get a resumed coherence in the album, I get fidgets because it’s just a little too similar, especially given the sudden break previously.

However, it has to be said that ‘Scary Movie’ offers up a wonderful melody to tantalise me and ultimately, yes, all is forgiven. The fragile gracefulness and heartfelt tunes in this six-minute farewell, along with deft lyricism, win me over.

The problem is, that I suppose this album’s habit of using an overarching sonic atmosphere, while evocative, is perhaps a little too evident here. Yes, there is a lot of merit to be found in the ability to create a sustained statement, particularly in the modern pop age, but you do need to have a little more nuance to distinguish certain points; even the greatest landscape paining has landmarks. That said, Acda/Sleepingdog has created a rather sublime sound here, and if you’re a fan of, say, Explosions In The Sky, Godspeed You! Black Emperor or Nico, I would recommend any of the pieces on offer. Just perhaps not all.

Author: Katie H-Halinski