Julianna Barwick & Mary Lattimore — Tragic Magic (InFiné)
Photo by Rachael Cassells
Longstanding friends, tourmates, and creative bedfellows Mary Lattimore and Julianna Barwick seem so simpatico in emotional and sonic terms that it’s a bit surprising to realize this is their first full-length collaboration. The former’s harp and latter’s looped vocals and synth tones both often get tagged as “ethereal,” “cosmic,” even “angelic.” And from the opening notes of “Perpetual Adoration,” it will come as no surprise to fans of both that they blend so seamlessly and beautifully together. And yet there winds up being even more to Tragic Magic than those opening minutes (as gorgeous as they are) might lead you to expect.
For one thing, it’s not incidental that the LP is being released on French label InFiné. This is the latest in a series of records that the label and the Philharmonie de Paris created to highlight the extraordinary collection of vintage and rare instruments at the Musée de la Musique. For the nine days it took Barwick & Lattimore to record these songs, they had access to the collection, and used those instruments exclusively. Lattimore plays four different harps, dating from 1728-1900, and Barwick plays two analog synthesizers from 1975 and 1982 (the Bandcamp page has more detailed credits for gear nerds and anyone else curious). “The Four Sleeping Princesses” that give the second track here its name are those four harps, given an astounding showcase. The rarity and age of the instruments used might not be apparent to most listeners on first listen, but they do show up in a sense. The focus and reverence displayed in composition and performance speak of skilled craftswomen fully aware of the significance of their tools.
And while most of the album are originals by the duo, two tracks come from outside sources. Given that they arrived in France from an LA recently hit by wildfires, it’s especially poignant to learn that the field recording that opens their cover of Vangelis’s “Rachel’s Song” from Blade Runner is of the first rain after the end of the fires. And the brief, bewitching “Temple of the Winds” was written for them by Roger Eno after conversation over lunch. Again, both contributions meld smoothly into this body of work. Even when they introduce a steady kosmiche pulse most of the way into the synth-heavy “Stardust,” it fits right in. Although there’s an almost miraculous unity of feeling throughout, examining the disparate compositions and trying to hang an easy descriptor off of all of them winds up being a perplexing task. “Orchestral ambient psychedelia” might cover the broadest part of it, but there’s still something missing, something more than the sum of labels.
However singular or slightly uncanny their work together seems, one thing that’s much less mysterious is just how good it sounds. Whether it’s the stately shimmer of “Haze With No Haze” or the way the steady twinkle of the closing “Melted Moon” shifts into something more elegiac as Barwick’s vocals kick in, Tragic Magic sees both her and Lattimore working at the top of their respective games, the surroundings and partnership clearly inspiring them. This is an LP that is immediately, ingratiatingly appealing while still having significant depths to plumb. It is one of the prettiest things you’re likely to hear all year, but also one of the most edifying.
Ian Mathers
