Four Tet - Sixteen Oceans

March 13, 2020 - Text Records

With great anticipation but limited fanfare, Kieran Hebden’s tenth album release as Four Tet has arrived. Sixteen Oceans continues the sonic journey charted on 2017’s New Energy and the handful of KH and ⣎⡇ꉺლ༽இ•̛)ྀ◞ ༎ຶ ༽ৣৢ؞ৢ؞ؖ ꉺლ releases dotting the interim. Sixteen Oceans consists of sixteen tracks, small and large, warm and cold, near and far, not unlike their namesaked bodies of water and sand and life. There is a furthering of ease present in this project more so than those that preceded, a distinct feeling of comfort in the production, the naming, the presentation. It is welcome here and now.

We start with ‘School,’ a medium sized body with many of the sensibilities associated with Hebden’s production: plucked synth melodies spun out of thin air like fairy floss, textural nature field recordings, the hint of human interaction, smooth bass swells at just the right moment. Gritty open hi-hat cymbals are used to great effect; we are grounded in what is to come.

‘Baby’ features credited vocals from Ellie Goulding, though they aren’t quite recognizable after their treatment and the context of the track. Tension runs high but the energy overall remains manageable and rooted in the dance floor. The track evokes dancing in a planetarium as exotic travel sequences are projected all around you; you’re here but your mind is free to wander. 

Moving on to ‘Harpsichord’ and the waters calm slightly. As the title might suggest, this song features a harpsichord. Notes from the instrument are played over a wash of textural pads and occasional vocal swells. It is an in between ocean, more essence than tangibility. 

Next is ‘Teenage Birdsong,’ the main single to proceed the album. A striking piece of intimate dance music, ‘Teenage Birdsong’ packs a lot in a small amount of time, though there are plenty of sections primed for looping to draw out anticipation on dance floors and radio shows alike. The brunt of the action revolves around a recorder-like instrument’s melody line with a lethargic but steady low-end beat. Emotions are toyed with here, from the title to the nostalgia that seeps through the soft pads and builds that culminate in a very satisfying harp finale.

‘Romantics’ slides in like a deconstructed sandwich, all the parts are given their own space, room to breathe, but the result is still recognizable as the sum of these parts. Hebden’s beat here is sharp, mechanical noises march in line with bass and rhythm. Wind chimes are tricked into performing a pattern recognizable as a melody. Guttural nature noises play hide-and-seek with a female vocal line. Reverb and decay set in as the piece fades away.

‘Love Salad’ opens in a communal space but quickly leaves for more introspective waters. It’s the bounciest cut yet, rolling percussion pushing a slower melodic line onward. The synth line that enters around the one third mark feels out of place at first, but it quickly nestles into the comforting fold of inevitability. Less action. More reaction.

‘Insect Near Piha Beach’ starts us outside the club and then pushes us back in. Then the walls of the club fall down cartoon style to reveal we never left the shore. Waves of nondescript emotion lap our feet. Winds of happiness and sorrow blow through our hair. Ethereal voices raise the hair on our bodies. A stringed instrument is expertly played and expertly sampled. Is this the first time, or have we been here before? Darkness falls, then lifts, then falls again.

‘Hi Hello’ interrupts the listener. Cutely, intimately, and with the help of a young assistant testing the auditory waters, but an interruption nonetheless.

With ‘ISTM’ it is the listener who interrupts a moment of piano-based clarity. The moment evaporates. We question these interludes.

‘Something In The Sadness’ enters wider waters, expansive horizon glittering calmly with the sunlight reflected from a thousand Kikkerland Swarovski crystal-powered Rainbow Makers. These arpeggiated drips and chimes are given free rein on the piece, creating their own percussive patterns and rhythms amidst the chaos that they themselves create. Pressure builds, sunlight fades, and the crystals stop spinning. Time for rest. 

Like a dream in between two other dreams, ‘1993 Band Practice’ enters the scene like another scene in between two other scenes. The vision is distorted, like viewing CCTV footage through a tube television while you run magnets around the perimeter of the box in a slow circle.

‘Green’ pulls us out of the TV and back into the water. Bowed synths are stacked gently on each other. Underlying currents of choppy percussion and abstracted melody push us further. 

‘Bubbles At Overlook 25th March 2019’ is more than likely a field recording of just that, twisted and stretched over itself like taffy on a sugar pulling machine. Hints of video game monster noises pop in here and there but nothing too terribly definitive.

‘4T Recordings’ has all the emotional pull and gravitas of a great ending to a great day. The voice of past pieces comes back in full force and length. The birds return. The drones swell. The melodic plucks begin. Energy builds and releases in nearly the same moment. 

‘This Is For You’ continues the somewhat paradoxical mini-theme of interrupting an intimate moment not meant for the listener but also not asked for by the listener. That probably speaks to the piece’s success. It definitely speaks to Hebden’s ability to play with and show an interest in emotion and expression through the vehicle of auditory interpretation.

The journey winds to a close with ‘Mama Teaches Sanskrit,’ a meditative and yes, intimate track that feels closer to waking up with the sun than following it to sleep. In this, it wraps itself back to the beginning of the project, to ‘School’ again and through another trip along these sixteen oceans of Sixteen Oceans. Thank you Kieran. 🍍