Joel Pike has been releasing music under the Tiny Leaves moniker for over a decade now. Each album is filled with glorious melodies and clever productions. Nature is at the core of Pike’s work, or that’s how it feels to me, so it’s no surprise that nature is smack bang and centre on his fifth Tiny Leaves album ‘Mynd’. The album is inspired by the idea of interpreting landscape in musical terms. Pike looked to the paintings of David Tress who used mixed media to create his landscapes. Looking at them you can see cracks, expressive brushstrokes and swathes of colour; they take you aback, transporting you to the place in question. Pike wanted to replicate this expression. Instead of using huge salvos of sound, Pike instead opted for a less-is-more approach. None of the music on ‘Mynd’ gets above a whisper. It’s effective as you have to lean in to hear it properly, regardless of the volume it’s played at. The music feels like you’re eavesdropping on something you shouldn’t by accident.
Whilst listening to ‘Mynd’ the sun was out, and my windows were open. It was hard to work out how many of the bird calls were from the record and which were emanating from my open window. I’m sure the next time I play this album, when the weather is less salubrious, I’ll realise its missing something, but for now it sounds sublime. The importance of the bird calls cannot be emphasised enough; they’re as important as the actual music. They ground the listener in the real world, instead of a sterile studio. Well, maybe, but more on that later. We’ve all listened to music outside, or with the outside in reaching distance, and had nature impose itself on the music. Here, it’s the very purpose. As delicate as the music is, the starlings (I think they’re starlings…) singsong doesn’t break our concentration; it enhances it, reminding us that we are listening to languish in the moment. Yes, this is serious music. But it’s also playful and should be enjoyed as such.
You know when I mentioned the sterile studio? Well, I wasn’t being 100% accurate then. The album was recorded when Pike was an artist in residence with the National Trust at The Long Mynd in Shropshire. The field recordings we hear were either recorded when Pike was playing his filagree melodies in the wild or were added back during the editing process. This gives them more importance because they weren’t just added to Atmos, but because they were part of the fabric of the recording process in the first place.
What Pike does on ‘Mynd’ is remind the listener there’s beauty all around us and to stop once in a while and check it out. Underpinning the album is a fragility. At first, I thought it was just in the way that Pike had composed the music. With hindsight I realised the themes of fragility permeates the experience because of where it was recorded. Let’s face it, we’re trashing the planet, areas of natural beauty like The Long Mynd might not be around much longer unless we start taking care of them now.
Overall ‘Mynd’ is a wonderfully tranquil album. It wraps you in gossamer motifs and touching rhythms. It’s an album I hope to return to again and again. With every listen I’m finding new things I didn’t hear the last time, which seems to be Pike’s primary point. Even if you’re not in the vicinity of a local park, wood or stately home, you’ll unearth something new with every visit. You just have to put in the time and open your mynd.
8/10
Words: Nick Roseblade
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