May 20, 2022 - Monday Records
It has now been a decade that the music of William Phillps has been a part of my life. His work as Tourist has felt as if it has always been there, from sunset hikes, late drives, loud clubs, to quiet evenings alone, weddings, and being present with friends. The music finds a way. This new record, Phillips’s fourth full-length, is no different.
The project begins in a void of nothingness, an empty, formless space. Silence rings out against the depths for a considerable time. Slowly, sound begins to flow in, carrying notes and voices and instruments and emotion. The sound converges in the center of the space, filling the void with meaning until the invisible vessel overflows, at once and with great force. Light and feeling spread to the far reaches of the space. The feeling is joy, but there is sadness here too. Layers upon layers of textured emotion pulse to the quick rhythm of energetic percussion, building tension again. But the space is full. There is nowhere left to occupy. Time pushes on. ‘Speak In Symphony’ gives way to ‘Your Love;’ less a passing of the baton and more of lighting it on fire. Turbulent jubilation erupts from the edges of the track, converging on a vocalization of the track’s title. It’s a straight club banger, but it feels reserved too. A piece meant for everyone and also only one other. Phillips focuses on this dichotomy of intimacy, the feelings that are both universal and unique. That focus brings catharsis early to the project, like a release of steam or an easing of pressure.
‘Avalanche’ retains the heft of ‘Your Love’ but leans into the introspection. Swirling synths cascade internally, filling the body as heavy drums and light chimes vie for attention. It’s the embodiment of having a personal soundtrack, the kind of song that changes the context of everything around it. This powerful feeling is deflated by the use of a harsh fade out, but my own bias for definitive resolution might be clouding my thoughts. My thoughts are immediately unclouded by the start of ‘With You.’ Anthemic percussion marks slow, concise time. The mix is minimal but lush, with audio completely enveloping the soundstage to the point I thought something was thumping in the kitchen behind my desk. The central vocal sample is weaved into the production in chilling fashion, bleeding into the quivering synths. Another fade out, this time a little more appropriate.
Clouds roll in for ‘A Dedication,’ a piece filled with somber energy mixed with the feeling of getting caught out in the rain. Disappointment in getting wet when you weren’t planning on getting wet, but then an acceptance that there is nothing to be done about getting wet. Then the acceptance turns to gratitude, as the sensation of cooling rain on a hot day takes hold. It’s a feeling not sought out, but that provides insight and growth and calm. The song fades out, a sensation I am learning to accept. ‘April’ fades in, filling the brief silence with chopped samples and textured noise. Round plucked synths ring out, their tails distorting in the increasing claustrophobic soundspace. A rich bass undercurrent flows steadily beneath echoing vocals. The calendar stretches out from the spring, a seemingly endless row of empty squares waiting to be filled in.
‘We Thought You Were Sleeping’ enters with all the fanfare of a sunset or sunrise festival gem, with hopeful melodic swells building upon one another. At the top, the swells spill over, swirling down a waterslide of memories. Vocals run circles around the hopeful arpeggios and tight percussion. ‘Lark’ carries this energy further into the night/morning, with an infectious bassline and dance-centric groove. Field recorded nature gets comfy with sharp samples and rich synths. Bursts of happy chords go off like flowers opening up in spring, filling the air with scent and color.
‘Silent Letter’ continues what’s turning out to be a brighter second half of the album. Lush orchestral chords are stretched out like sweet warm sugar. Phillips presence can be felt as the sugar cools and solidifies, giving way to sharp vocal sample stabs. The music takes on a windswept feel, the sugar both shattering into sparkling shards and being spun into candy floss all around. The finale ‘Eternal’ looks back across the project, distilling nine pieces into one timeless expression of joy and loss and hope and memory. Vocals crash like waves against steadfast bass, and synth chords as percussion act as heartbeat and dance director. Pressure builds and builds until there is no room for anything else to be, anything else to join, anything else to hold. Then it is over, over too soon.
The first time I listened to the album, I was surprised when it ended. I wanted more, but I didn’t know what more would feel like. There was a sense of loss throughout the project, partially due to the fade-outs used to end the tracks, sometimes before their expected finish. It is a sense of loss Phillips was experiencing himself as he worked on the music after the sudden departure of a close friend. His inspiration for the album—”two people very important to [him] - one who is here, one who isn’t” is incredibly present throughout the work, embedded in timeless expression. I am left feeling grateful for the experience. 🍍