Once you’ve touched upon and delved into a good few different styles, you as an artist put yourself into a bit of paradoxical position. On the one hand you’re free to continue down any path you want, or even take a left turn and try something completely different. However you run a risk with whichever path you choose: revisit a path, you get accused of stalemate; try a new way, you risk alienating listeners. Hamish Duncan of Sleep In seemed to be in that exact position after the release of his third album Blackwidow at the start of the year. The record was a return to the glitchy beat driven ambience that managed to spread itself well into numerous styles while also somehow managing to feel constrained and overloaded at times. Songs like “Shrimp Flanders” and “NYC” were groovy and enjoyable, but they were cloying and even overbearing in some respects. But the record put him back in a good position.
But I couldn’t really have validly predicted the content of Carnival. In a nutshell you could class this album as Duncan’s “acoustic” album. However, such a tag only goes so far in the same sense of calling Pyramid his “metal” album. Of course there was acoustic guitar present on Pyramid, too, but the focus seemed placed on the electric aspects and fidgeting samples and beats that weaved between the actual instruments.
And again, such interplay is present here and this makes the fact that Carnival is being advertised and sold with Pyramid more appropriate. Compared to the likes of his debut album Raining Glass and Blackwidow, Pyramid and Carnival can almost seem like the work of two entirely different people. Becoming familiar with the records, though, you begin to pick up on particular traits that Duncan has an inevitable habit of returning to. Likely the track that will make listeners pick up their ears, “Steady” gains its whole structure from one looped and sampled bouncy guitar riff. Fixing in unspecific distortion, saintly backing vocals, and wailing crescendos, it’s easy to think he’s messed up a perfectly fine and clean sample. But it’s no longer about the original sample – it’s about what it’s now become and how it has become part of a Sleep In song. It also makes for a distinct attribute which part of the success of Carnival.
The cloying landscapes Duncan has previously built could be enjoyable and when those identifiable moments poked through it was great, but sometimes the work to get there didn’t feel worth it. On Carnival he’s cleared his palette and decided to work instead with more basic colours and larger brushes. Sure, songs still have plenty to listen out for but they no longer feel busy. “Back To Land” has a simple clanging beat to it while a hopping and memorable guitar line keeps it together. Little flairs help accentuate the right parts but never do they get in the way or take away the focus from the acoustic core.
In terms of a clearer vision you have to look at the other side of the record as opposed to the “acoustic” side. Duncan has always worked with drones and flirted around creating a sort of peaceful ambience but here he’s definitely hit on something worth hearing. After the brief and stuttering “You Glow” the piercing and almost dissonant tones of “The Woods” force themselves into your ears. It lingers for about a minute too long but it doesn’t matter much since it feels like a sweep to wipe the slate clean. The more ambient numbers are where the real surprise and success lie, though. “January” sounds like the eerie soundtrack to some creepy science-fiction film as it carefully and lightly swells. The best bit comes right as it’s fading out, though, as some sampled strings are sucked into the picture, suggestively dying away. “Empty Space” emits another low drone that sounds like rainfall without any water, but this time the drone is more calming than ferocious and thus it acts as a sort of mirroring juxtaposition to “The Woods.”
The faults of the record lie in various places but don’t especially deter from the overall effect of the album. “Spared” is the most typical Sleep In song here with extended samples from speeches (preacher Jack Van Impe, no less), flashes of heavy distortion and heavy beats. It can easily come off as messy and disconnected, and the only real way to appreciate it is to invest attention in it. The piano sequence which eventually resolves in the final thirty seconds is a nice end, but the track lacks an effective build to make the cadence worth it. “Amorous” seem intent on creating an unsettling atmosphere, but doesn’t have any real memorable attributes, despite its attempts at clever wordplay. Another criticism might be Duncan’s low and monotonous voice, but as a whole he uses it well, never straining himself, or going beyond his capabilities. It helps that most of his lyrics are surprisingly clever and worth listening for. Lyrics and voice make a great pair when he runs off a line like “This nice man is going to take you for a ride” and makes it sound more unsettling than it already is.
While Duncan might have created one of his best and most cohesive albums it’s hard to say whether he’s entirely comfortable doing what he is here. “So I’ve got a steady job” are the first words of the album which could well be a reference to the stylistic ventures on Carnival I’ve described, or the fact he’s now attached to a bigger label, but when he continues “But it’s not the one I want” he throws it all up in the air again. In my review of Blackwidow I seemed to almost predict Duncan’s journey down the path to ambience. On final track “I Try” he sings “So I tried to die” accentuating the idea of a metamorphosis once again. But the sting comes in next verse when he continues “No I don’t mean death, I mean something else instead.” He ends on a warning almost: “So don’t you predict what you don’t know.” After this, I wouldn’t dare make a guess at what’s going to come next.
