The foursome gathered together for the inaugural Fjall release From The Rough Hill has a veritable cornucopia of instruments, with Martin Archer on a variety of reeds and electronics, Jan Todd playing three forms of harp plus the psaltery, and percussionists Fran Comyn and Richard Jackson including bells, bowls, gongs and field recordings.
All in all, an unusual and clearly pastoral-leaning set-up that is beautifully utilised in the twelve-part soundscape that unfolds. Interestingly, two of Freq supremo Richard‘s goats, Tommy and Dolly, appear silhouetted on the CD itself and that timeless image, along with the lovely monochrome artwork, suits perfectly a suite that is ensconced deep in a lonely countryside, memories of ancient rites and integration with nature seeping into its bones.
The intro is a slow drift; distant sounds emanate, alerting us to activity deep undercover. Flute and percussion flutter, things hard to spot as they move in and out on the edge of the eyeline. Each sound uncovers new detail, but all at a gentle, welcoming pace. You can see the break of day, grey fading to blue through the canopy, with sweet harp hints and a deep drone breath. Simple repeated motifs linger in the vibrant air as percussion scuffles in the undergrowth. A surreptitious expansion starts to unfold, each player lending subtle pressure with their own accents and intrigue, and a halting rhythm begins, picking up a little momentum, low sounds supporting a pulsing sax, a playful rag that merges with found sounds. This movement ebbs and flows though and the impression is of different perspectives of one view, taken with varying degrees of precision, but constantly evolving. The Zen-like percussion slows the heart and feels so natural, as if grounded by basic forces.By section five, the sound has become particularly alluring, an elemental force, with the selection of instrumentation making for an immersive experience; the constant yet irregular movement of the two percussionists running in and out of sync, passing through light and shade, tracking the course of the day. Here and there storm clouds gather, a percussive wash threatening and a low key drone humming as reeds test the air. At other moments you have the feeling things have stalled, an impending threat circling, tones of breath moving closer, gathering away from the open spaces.
A wash of cymbal and a drift of harp open up another vista, the high peak of sax scudding onward, dissipating and regaining until the gently welcoming descent into twilight finds a fitting return to the skeletal opening almost an hour ago. This album was partly live in the studio and you can feel the sense of players very much simpatico with one another, but not afraid to add extra textures that will allow the finished album to really shine.From The Rough Hill is a thing of ancient and elemental beauty, an inland journey for the head and for the heart.
-Mr Olivetti-
