The word ‘elemental’ hardly begins to sum up ‘Take Me To The Sea,’ the latest musical marine odyssey from Mothbreath. They have always made music that goes way beyond merely song, their releases seeming a weave of sound and emotion and essence and atmosphere, just one part of a bigger whole, a chorus in a primal composition, as if they are channelling the acoustics of the planet, tapping into the echo of primaeval acoustics, just as were those ancient shamans and medieval bards. Never did it feel truer than here.
‘Take Me To The Sea’ is music that seems to exist on a far horizon where the sky meets the sea, where sirens and whale song, tides and wave crests create a half-heard pelagic symphony. Sounds pull us down into the depths through spiralling undercurrents, the song eddying and ebbing and flowing toward the dark oceanic floor, the final intense guitars standing in for the crushing weight of those furthest reaches. And throughout, depth-charge pulses and liquid electronics add maritime mystery to this aquatic aria.
As the song builds, we are compelled to follow, beguiled by sea scapes and siren song, to return to the place where all life began, down, down, like T.S. Eliot’s Phlebas, in The Wasteland, ourselves becoming that drowned Phoenician sailor, consumed and returning to the source.
Music can entertain, and it can enlighten; it can soundtrack a night out or set a tone of comfort or relaxation. Rarely does it make you think so deeply, especially with so few words, as here on ‘Take Me To the Sea.’ Some may read my verbose scribble and say I’m overthinking it…I think I have hardly begun to dip my toe in the philosophical waters of this amazing song.
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