Zoon van snooK’s second LP, The Bridge Between Life & Death, is the astonis… Read Full Bio ↴Zoon van snooK’s second LP, The Bridge Between Life & Death, is the astonishing follow-up to 2010’s wondrously idiosyncratic (Falling From) The Nutty Tree (Mush Records).
Each song has been constructed around a different field recording, the collection having been garnered during a trip to Iceland at the end of 2009. Snook had long harboured a love for, and fascination with, the country and its music, and the finished result reflects that enchantment beautifully. He has also managed to enlist the input of various eminent Icelandic musicians.
The album begins by beckoning you in with the curious and captivating sound cradle of its introduction, before throwing open its arms, Leiktími’s glockenspiels and strings both conveying and instilling a sense of blithe expectancy and anticipation.
Led slowly by the hand into Snorri’s Saga, you find yourself warm and safe, rocking gently by the fireside. But don’t get too comfortable: two and a half minutes in, the mood darkens; you realise you are being gently tipped, and the profoundly unsettling final chord finds you dangling helplessly over a precipice.
The album continues with Björn of the Mendips, a classic Snook concoction of sticky sounds, voluptuous melody and vocal sampling, in this case an Icelandic anecdote culminating with the words: “That’s how the life can be here on this little strange island”.
And on we go. Inclementine skitters and skips like winter sun on water, mesmerising and becalming.
First single The Verge of Winter begins playfully, coltishly, like a whispered secret. Then in comes a lolloping beat, which later gives way to an eerie mid-section of strings and sirens before moving to a joyous canter, rich with synths. And all of this in under four minutes; a miniature rhapsody.
And so you arrive, exhilarated and red-faced, at Thufur Thoroughfare (featuring MORR Records stalwart Benni Hemm Hemm), which opens with mischievous plinks and plonks, but stops you dead in your tracks with its opening string chords; a progression of such aching pathos that the ensuing piano refrain, perfect in its plaintive simplicity, threatens to break you entirely. And as it rises, backed by shimmering counter-melodies and half-heard sounds (maybe footsteps?) it does indeed seem to rend open a deep-buried place, whilst simultaneously filling it brimful with hope and longing. But, as ever, Snook steers you well clear of sentimentality with a perfectly placed vocal sample, this time a child’s voice looped to sound like a gently jeering taunt. Nonetheless, this track provides some of the album’s most deeply intimate moments.
The Potter’s Garden (featuring Sigur Rós string section, Amiina) is a delicious tapestry of intriguing sounds, melodies and rhythms; it leads you around a maze of tunnels, following someone half-seen, who keeps disappearing, laughing, round another corner just as you think you’ve caught them up.
Magret the Outlaw’s beautifully disturbing refrain, juxtaposed with an oddly- but expertly-placed sample of, perhaps, an Icelandic folk song, builds breathtakingly and then gives way to driving drums, synths, and breathy vocals, which the toy piano (?) rejoins to startling effect. It feels like running hard into the night with the wind behind you.
Now follows the dulcifying balm of Lyre! Lyre!! with a sample of an Icelandic woman talking. About what? The non-Icelandic ear neither knows nor cares, because the timbre of her voice, with its rolling burr, is an instrument in itself; the perfect fit for this song.
Tjörnin Side opens with a spiky sequence of plucked strings; it develops, via squelchy sounds and chiming glockenspiels, into something dark and sticky, which trickles into gloomy recesses and pools there, ominously.
Finally you find yourself at The Gaits. Featuring guest performer Sin Fang (Seabear, MORR Records), it seems to wrap you entirely within its bejewelled wings, with church bells sounding amid multitudinous layers of woven melodies. As it gains height, it takes on a surreal dichotomy of feeling like home and like the biggest adventure; an unabashed celebration of life and everything in it.
The Bridge Between Life & Death is a vision sublimely realised. It rings, echoes and shakes with heart and history, exploring darkness and light and everything on the Bridge between, as surely was intended. Enjoy the ride.
Sandy Bink
Each song has been constructed around a different field recording, the collection having been garnered during a trip to Iceland at the end of 2009. Snook had long harboured a love for, and fascination with, the country and its music, and the finished result reflects that enchantment beautifully. He has also managed to enlist the input of various eminent Icelandic musicians.
The album begins by beckoning you in with the curious and captivating sound cradle of its introduction, before throwing open its arms, Leiktími’s glockenspiels and strings both conveying and instilling a sense of blithe expectancy and anticipation.
Led slowly by the hand into Snorri’s Saga, you find yourself warm and safe, rocking gently by the fireside. But don’t get too comfortable: two and a half minutes in, the mood darkens; you realise you are being gently tipped, and the profoundly unsettling final chord finds you dangling helplessly over a precipice.
The album continues with Björn of the Mendips, a classic Snook concoction of sticky sounds, voluptuous melody and vocal sampling, in this case an Icelandic anecdote culminating with the words: “That’s how the life can be here on this little strange island”.
And on we go. Inclementine skitters and skips like winter sun on water, mesmerising and becalming.
First single The Verge of Winter begins playfully, coltishly, like a whispered secret. Then in comes a lolloping beat, which later gives way to an eerie mid-section of strings and sirens before moving to a joyous canter, rich with synths. And all of this in under four minutes; a miniature rhapsody.
And so you arrive, exhilarated and red-faced, at Thufur Thoroughfare (featuring MORR Records stalwart Benni Hemm Hemm), which opens with mischievous plinks and plonks, but stops you dead in your tracks with its opening string chords; a progression of such aching pathos that the ensuing piano refrain, perfect in its plaintive simplicity, threatens to break you entirely. And as it rises, backed by shimmering counter-melodies and half-heard sounds (maybe footsteps?) it does indeed seem to rend open a deep-buried place, whilst simultaneously filling it brimful with hope and longing. But, as ever, Snook steers you well clear of sentimentality with a perfectly placed vocal sample, this time a child’s voice looped to sound like a gently jeering taunt. Nonetheless, this track provides some of the album’s most deeply intimate moments.
The Potter’s Garden (featuring Sigur Rós string section, Amiina) is a delicious tapestry of intriguing sounds, melodies and rhythms; it leads you around a maze of tunnels, following someone half-seen, who keeps disappearing, laughing, round another corner just as you think you’ve caught them up.
Magret the Outlaw’s beautifully disturbing refrain, juxtaposed with an oddly- but expertly-placed sample of, perhaps, an Icelandic folk song, builds breathtakingly and then gives way to driving drums, synths, and breathy vocals, which the toy piano (?) rejoins to startling effect. It feels like running hard into the night with the wind behind you.
Now follows the dulcifying balm of Lyre! Lyre!! with a sample of an Icelandic woman talking. About what? The non-Icelandic ear neither knows nor cares, because the timbre of her voice, with its rolling burr, is an instrument in itself; the perfect fit for this song.
Tjörnin Side opens with a spiky sequence of plucked strings; it develops, via squelchy sounds and chiming glockenspiels, into something dark and sticky, which trickles into gloomy recesses and pools there, ominously.
Finally you find yourself at The Gaits. Featuring guest performer Sin Fang (Seabear, MORR Records), it seems to wrap you entirely within its bejewelled wings, with church bells sounding amid multitudinous layers of woven melodies. As it gains height, it takes on a surreal dichotomy of feeling like home and like the biggest adventure; an unabashed celebration of life and everything in it.
The Bridge Between Life & Death is a vision sublimely realised. It rings, echoes and shakes with heart and history, exploring darkness and light and everything on the Bridge between, as surely was intended. Enjoy the ride.
Sandy Bink
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The Bridge Between Life and Death
Zoon van Snook Lyrics
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