Twenty-four hour news cycles, fast food delivery, instant streaming of an entire TV series, and high speed broadband. We live in a world where speed is not only seen as a distinctly positive attribute but also where it is an expectation. Capitalism and consumerism have diluted to the point where AI can now anticipate and tell us what we want before realising we need it. Battling against this is nothing new though; the slow living mentality and movement has been going since the 1980s and is still a popular hashtag on social media to this day. Taking time to enjoy life and your surroundings, to be in the present may be played for laughs by some, but it’s a serious business – and increasingly difficult when modern life wants us to do otherwise. Living in the moment is hard.
Melanie Radford offers a small sliver of peace. The debut solo album from the Built To Spill and Blood Lemon member is a bass-centric haven of sorts, a deliberately slow and ambient-leaning album that takes the pace of a long solitary walk through nature or a quiet neighbourhood. Recorded during and in-between tours, the album took two years to come into creation, matching its unhurried countenance. Radford took stolen time where she could to create at her own pace, to match what brought her peace. If the question as to why create an album of deliberate languidness arises then look no further than the record’s title: For The Sake of Stillness.
Built around various field recordings Radford made when exploring urban and natural environments, the album’s most peaceful feature can be the textures these bring to the music. Opening track “Philadelphia” is wrapped up in an ambiguous fuzz, creating a lo-fi hiss to Radford’s longing. “You’re still on my mind,” she intonates as bass notes dribble beneath her. Recorded in one take, there’s a tangible pining in the air, an oxymoronic urgent sort of calm calling out into the world. Elsewhere, on “Seagull”, she goes on a soft exploration of bass notes over the chirp of birdsong and gentle slosh of waves hitting the shore. It’s almost like Radford is trying to tap into the ebb and flow of it and it feels smooth and aerodynamic, like the titular bird gliding in the wind above the sea.
Other intriguing textures come from a small collection of musical guests. Former Built To Spill bandmate Jim Roth adds synths on “Back Again” that bring an ominous feel, teetering the music into drone territory while his pedal steel on “Sink & Swallow” combined with drums from Lê Almeida (another Built To Spill alumni) bring to mind the peaceful, rolling landscapes on Sigur Rós’ ( ). Elsewhere Lori Goldston’s cello arrangements add a welcome extra layer to tap into; on the lullaby-like “Hangin’ On” in particular they add a slow moving melodic device to help the track move along at a glacial pace. On final song “Outro: A Walk Away”, Radford and her guests lock into a surprise groove as Cacá Amaral’s percussion drives the track. For a brief two minutes the album feels no longer like a solitary, introspective walk but instead a joyful, upbeat stroll with friends.
It’s something of a surprise at the end, especially since the back half of the album loses focus and becomes less engaging than its counterpart. There’s plenty of surface level atmosphere, but never quite enough to stay interesting over extended periods. A track like “Valentina” offers soft bass textures, faint vocals, and a cosy lo-fi feel, but lacks much needed substance. In the final two minutes the bass thrums against dramatic drum hits, like an omen for something set to happen – but nothing ever does. Elsewhere, on “Home”, a tape clicks midway through to shift gears, but apart from some drums that sound like a ship on choppy waters and more cello from Goldston, the track doesn’t develop much further.
Sitting in a moment of stillness and atmosphere is no bad thing (again, look at the album’s title) and you can easily tune into the calm Radford is conjuring here. As a passing moment of serenity it’s a pleasant little haven, but doesn’t offer quite enough to make multiple return visits worth it. When Radford adds vocals and locks into a moment of human pining (“Philidelphia”, “Hangin’ On”) it adds a melancholic air to the music, like a distant voice from long ago calling out from inside the static. For The Sake of Stillness is Radford moving at her own pace, often deliberately slow and languorous. It’s her own document of isolation and peace in a busy, loud, and hectic world. It might not be the same frequency as the silence of others, but it’s undeniably personal at its heart – and finding your own space is perhaps the most important task to fight against the hurry of the world.
