A Hawk And A Hacksaw – Forest Bathing

LM Dupli-Cation

I remember years ago catching A Hawk And A Hacksaw playing various little venues in Bristol. At that point, it was just Heather Trost and Jeremy Barnes and they were plying a kind of Eastern European street music, Jeremy sitting down playing the accordion with a drumstick taped to his hat and a large drum between his legs, knocking out a rhythm as Heather patrolled the edges of the stage, keening violin lines streaming from her bow. It was certainly a far cry from the kind of psychedelic indie that Jeremy’s previous band Neutral Milk Hotel had plied, and they were always a delight to watch and utterly charming; but by the time Mic and I saw them at All Tomorrow’s Parties some years later, the sound had already progressed and had moved further east.

With the addition of a dulcimer player and a percussionist, the sound was less about the carnival atmosphere of a Prague street and more about the sinuous sounds coming from a Persian market On this latest album, their seventh since 2004, the sound has moved a little further east again and perhaps a little south. The band is still primarily the duo of Heather and Jeremy, but is augmented here and there when a little fuller sound or a different vibe is required to capture the essence of the album’s title. Forest Bathing is apparently a Japanese term for taking in the woodland atmosphere, and it perhaps goes some way to helping to describe the immersive feeling that the album conjures.

Between the two of them, Heather and Jeremy take care of a plethora of instruments, and opener “Alexandria” really sets the scene. A brief description of a story is given as a Bulgarian trader is seduced by the music he hears in Alexandria whilst travelling there on business. The santur, which is some kind of dulcimer, merges with violin in a sweeping and rather majestic intro. There is a sultriness to the combination that brings to mind the dry heat of a Persian court. A fan dance taking place with veiled ladies weaving and dipping through tiled hallways, tables laden with eastern delights. Jeremy’s ability on the santur is quite remarkable, and if you had to guess where the players hailed from, it is unlikely that you would guess New Mexico. They seem to have left their world behind, or if they haven’t, they see it through a silken gauze, the very barest of links holding them in the western tradition. The sound is so full, considering there are only two of them on this track, and it utterly beguiles the listener, drawing them into another world.

The repetitive circular motif on “A Broken Road Lined With Poplar Trees” has more of a street music feel to it, the rallying, life-affirming rattle of the percussion shaking the listener into jumping to their feet, infectious rhythm whirling around the head, “The dirt warmed by the late summer sun / A melody from home on my tongue”. What an evocative description, and the feeling I kept having was that it would make a great theme if Egypt ever won the opportunity to hold the World Cup. There is a feeling of togetherness and exhilaration that would be perfect.

The mood does change here and there. The sweet night music combination of accordion and violin on “A Song For Old People / A Song For Young People” is slow and subtle, so we are all the more surprised when it bursts into a jig. The addition of clarinet and saxophone from Cüneyt Sepetçi and Chris Ogden on “The Shepherd Dogs Are Calling” really changes things. This is lower and more pensive, less exuberant as the descending notes lend the faintest air of melancholy to the proceedings. The tone of the clarinet is gorgeous; there is a real wistfulness that calms things down a little bit and kind of prepares us for the hint of jazz that follows. Upright bass and dulcimer courtesy of Unger Balász and Noah Martinez throw the music back out onto the street again, the propulsion of the bass moving the hips. This isn’t really jazz, but like some distant cousin. The track has an irresistible groove and is perhaps where the worlds of east and west most likely converge.

The album is full of sounds and feelings that are just so evocative of cultures and people that we often know very little about in our western music bubble. A Hawk And A Hacksaw are some kind of musical ambassadors, allowing us the opportunity to appreciate and evaluate what we are missing with our dreary four-piece pop bands and autotuned hip-hop nonsense. Out there is a wealth of colour and musical texture, of vibrancy and tempo that we don’t necessarily understand, but desperately want to. Heather and Jeremy return from there with precious postcards of dusty street markets and imposing mosaicked palaces, and it is like they are passing through a portal: each time their way back becomes harder and harder, but thankfully they continue their mission on our behalf. Our worlds would be so much emptier without them.

-Mr Olivetti-