As with Patience, Halcyon made its presence known as the year came to a close. It started with the initial low chords and the melodic line hovering over top, and quickly turned into something that sounds pretty atypical. There was a weight and dark sense of mystery to it unlike other pieces I knew. It felt very intense and spell-binding that night. I grappled for a long time with the words, which eventually began to slot into place as the following year took hold and perihelion threw different ideas and forces into orbit.
Like with a number of songs on this album, its lyrics don’t contain the name of the song, but were derived from the first lyric—lost among the waves, drawn in by luna’s persuasion. I feel that the main message of the song is about connecting with the cosmos and basking in the vast expanse of the universe. In my life, those moments have been very impactful while isolated under the night sky. I find it inspiring and crushing, but deeply contextualizing; we are so small and unimportant in the grand scheme of things. What we experience imprints and leaves tangible meaning both individually and on a societal level, yet nothing is really that grave, cosmically. There is a freedom and permission in that. You are allowed to perceive everything as a member of the universe, in addition to the human vantage point to which we’re all bound (in fact, it is probably better for everyone if we all try to experience both). These messages come in waves for me, as with most things in life. There is strength to be found in focussing on them just as there is to be found in gazing up from them every so often. Finding a balance in those two viewpoints is a big part of the spiritual journey for me. To strong-arm a well known phrase (to see the forest through the trees), this song is about seeing the moon through the waves; ceasing our fumbling through them now and again to gaze into the source of them; seeing the bigger picture through the human condition.
The halcyon is a mythical bird of legend which is most commonly identified with the Kingfisher. It was believed by the ancient Greeks that the Halcyon bird made a floating nest in the Aegean Sea. They thought that during her nesting period, she had the ability to charm the winds and calm the waves. When the Halcyon was nesting around the winter solstice, fourteen days of calm weather were to be expected. These two weeks are generally thought to start on the fourteenth of December (coincidentally right around my birthday). Since then, the myth has entered the English vernacular and began to figuratively mean ‘calm days’ or act as a nostalgic recalling of the seemingly endless days of youth.
Everything stemmed from this vision of being on the open water at night bathed in the glow of the moon and stars. The arrival of these sentiments began to accrete the remainder of the song. A process that would not reach it’s current recording form until several years later.
As Sojourns started to take shape as a concept and body of work, the threads grew stronger; songs echoed others in instrumentation and arrangement, themes grew together while finding their own identity, lyrics hearkened to one another. The ten pieces naturally formed a triumvirate, falling into three different spheres of influence: terra, luna, and stellæ; the first with earthy, scrappy, and sensual characteristics; the second as introspective, intimate, and serene; and the third with its contemplative, expansive, and transcendent weight.
My singing bowl made an appearance in two songs: the first as an instrument of primarily harmonic content in Whispers which forms a pitch-manipulated choir, and the second in Halcyon, primarily as a pad or environment instrument. Looking back, this instrument probably spoke so strongly to me with these two songs because of what the singing bowl (and what it emulates—the ‘Om’ or ॐ) symbolize. In Hinduism, it is the supreme essence—tuning into the wavelength of the universe’s fundamental vibration and resonance; aligning with the great resounding echo of existence.
Unemployment in the first six months of the pandemic gave me time to explore, and play, and think. During this period I entertained and frustrated myself endlessly with outlandish ideas for the pieces. For reasons that escape me now, I had morse code on the brain one day and decided to try to incorporate it into a song. Halcyon seemed the most logical with it’s indie-tronica roots. Following in the footsteps of Radiohead and James Blake, I thought that the palate would lend most effortlessly to this song through synthesizers and drum samples. In the first half of the song, there is a synth that introduces a radio-static sounding rhythm underneath the vocal stacks.
- .... . / --. .-. . .- - / .-. . ... --- ..- -. -.. .. -. --. / . -.-. .... ---
the / great / resounding / echo
When the morse message returns later in the song it is dispersed between the high hat parts in the big chorus section. (I made a whole video about it - check it out here).
The final piece of the puzzle was how to end this. Another fruit of my experimentation was the somewhat angular, odd-meter arpeggios that felt like the perfect parallel to rising with, straddling, and gliding down a wave. The song continues drifting and churning slowly back in toward it’s foundations until settling back into low piano with fading singing bowl accompaniment. Settling and calming like the Aegean Sea in the presence of Halcyon.
Opening yourself to possibility and inhabiting the world of a piece like this can yield such serendipitous outcomes. As my good friend and favourite facilitator/guide on yoga once said: “allow yourself to accept the universe’s energy,” and I feel like I was able, years later in this moment, to do just as she asked.
There is solace to be found in the tiny home and relative insignificance in this great resounding echo. Many secrets are held in her expansive mystery. It inspires and crushes all at once. We need only listen and learn if we want to find our place in it.
Listen to the track here.