Michael Hamilton: A Sonic Odyssey
The great thing about inviting people to send me their music is that I get to hear amazing talent I would otherwise never been aware of. Michael Hamilton is a composer across genres hailing from Glasgow, Scotland. In his work, he writes and records everything himself in his living room, but don't be fooled. Bass traps, expensive carpet and soundproof glass does not a high quality record make. It is talent and imagination.
Pale Shadows of Forgotten Names is the new work by Hamilton, an absorbing record that takes you on a journey. Who says in the new-age of pushing standalone singles that there isn't a place for an album that was never meant to be broken up as such? There are no vocals, only precise instrumentation and the occasional voiceover. I have also learned of a genre I was previously unaware of - Math-Rock. A quick google search defines the genre as 'a style of rock music characterized by complex rhythmic and instrumental patterns.' There's plenty of that here, and more.
The record opens with 'All They Could See Was The Wall In Front Of Them', a short atmospheric piece with strings that confuse the listener into believing they are in fact the real thing. Sound effects punctuate this, the ambience of birdsong laced with reverb and the sway of the trees that house them. This all lies underneath the first voiceover of this release. Before interviewing Michael, I had no idea who's voice it was or what it was referring to, only that it was male and the accent was American. 'Now is the time for bold, unprecedented action. It is time to declare no more talk, no more excuses. My friends, it is time to ask each other which side of history will you be on?' I can't help but feel this universal speech is very apt for not only 2020, but the many years that led up to protests happening in America and across the world right now. The beauty of a universal speech like this is that you're able to gleam your own meaning from it. Of course, it was written and recorded long before the death of George Floyd. I asked Michael more about the meaning of this speech, but more on that later.
A quick fade, and a melodic guitar begins that signals the start of We Live As We Dream. This is the lead single of the piece, and reverb isn't absent here either. The guitar rings out as drums are added, bringing more urgency to the melody. In a break from this, piano, coupled with other keyboard sounds come alive much in the same way as the guitar does earlier on. A speech can then be heard, this time in French, still male. I have allowed the meaning here to elude me on purpose. It isn't my native language, and by design of this art, I wasn't meant to understand it. The drums come back in, picking up the pace, and then out of nowhere the listener is hit with a wall of guitar sound. Heavy and distorted, but with heavenly synths behind it. Other guitars join with cleaner tone, backing up the synths. And then it all drops out...
...into An Odd Sense of Ending. A low synth drones on, with sustained notes from something more pleasant, yet still electronic. Other sounds drop in and out. Are they guitar? More synth? Another voiceover begins, this time in the English language, 'I have no idea where this will lead us, but I have a definite feeling it will be a place both wonderful, and strange.' The way this man finishes that sentence is for fans of ASMR. A piano comes in, reminding me of something that would've masqueraded as a genuine piano in 1980's music, but failing on every count. Here, it fits right in. A drum machine joins, with lashings of reverb. It sounds as if this too could've originated from the 1980's, but the programming of it is strictly 21st century. More intelligent than the average 80's programmer. A brief clip of a different kind of drum pattern is played for a mere few seconds before a dense sound effect leads us into our next chapter.
A Thousand Years of Raindrops is exactly how the sound effect sounds. That's a lot of raindrops. The keyboards underneath this transport you to somewhere else, vast skies where the rain coming down looks like a curtain draping itself across a landscape. One of these keyboards almost sounds like guitar feedback, but I feel like that would sound too harsh in this instance. For the first time, a woman's voice can be heard in this work, 'You see, evil always contains the seeds of its own destruction.' The voice speaks of how no matter how well formulated an evil plan can be, it will ultimately be doomed to fail due to the inherent evil within.
As the last words of A Thousand Years of Raindrops are spoken, The Momentary Centre of the Universe begins. A piano is played unlike previously heard in this work. This one has a distinctive click to it, like you can hear the player's fingernails tapping on the keys themselves. Then it all changes with a drum machine that sounds like it's breathing, like it's alive. This gives way to an acoustic drum sound, solidifying the beat. There's some arpeggiated keyboard in the background. Strings become the focus as the drums break down, but you can hear the programmed drums are still there. Then everything cuts out, leaving a guitar cleanliness similar to the one found on We Live As We Dream. 'I think you go a bit, for lack of a better word, mad, when you're in the deep end. When every aspect of yourself and your behaviour ends up being evaluated against these circumstances that your brain has decided are the momentary centre of the universe.' The speech almost sounds conversational, like it really could've been picked out of a chat between friends, of which the speaker is male. As the speech finishes, the loud drums and guitar are back. I wouldn't say it was heavier than before, but it certainly is more anthemic, where 'loud' is the essential component. When this all drops out though, there is some lovely acoustic guitar that doesn't go on for nearly long enough.
We get to the final track, How I Killed The Earth, and the listener is left feeling unsettled. Noise begins with this track, a reverse cymbal sound that has an open end rather than a sharp edge. Sounds that I could only describe as plates being dropped in a highly manipulative post-production edit, but I'm probably wrong. You can tell Michael Hamilton seeks to create film soundtracks, and this is the perfect example. Think psychological thriller, and there How I Killed The Earth might find its true home. A pulse breaks through the noise, yet that is also made up of noise. I'm reminded of the more aggressive side of Nine Inch Nails, and that is how this work ends.
If you think this music does belong as the soundtrack to a film, then you'd partly be right. I think though it works well as a standalone piece, Michael Hamilton has created a film with his partner in vision - Ross Cairns. Ross also mixed Pale Shadows of Forgotten Names, so has not only contributed to the visual aspect, but the audio presentation too. The company Cairns and Hamilton founded together, Superslide Media, is behind the production of this film document. Without giving too much away, there isn't a storyline as such, but the images are pleasing. My personal highlights are the mirror-images created of sky, water and beach. There is a lot of beauty to be photographed out there.
Michael Hamilton goes into more detail behind the voiceovers used for his album below, as well as giving a glimpse behind the scenes of the film production. He gives great insight into the instruments used to make this album in such a personal setting, and we finally find out who the voice is behind the inspiring speech of All They Could See Was The Wall In Front Of Them.
1. The opening speech in 'All They Could See Was The Wall In Front Of Them' is very apt for 2020, what does that speech relate to in your mind?
Some people will probably recognise it as an edited excerpt from Leonardo DiCaprio’s statement at the opening of the UN’s Climate Summit in 2014. The speech is, of course, about the very real and very serious threat of climate change, but more than that: it’s a call for the unification of humankind. Sci-fi authors often write about humanity uniting in response to global threats like alien invasions or artificial intelligence, but in our reality we have things like climate change, bacterial resistance and rapidly expanding nuclear arsenals. These and more are all challenges on the horizon that are bigger than any of the issues that divide us, and won’t discriminate between race, class, gender, sexuality or anything else in their destruction of us. With countries, societies, and communities becoming increasingly polarised, solidarity is needed now more than ever, if not for the sake of basic human compassion, then for the survival of our species.
2. This is clearly an album that is meant to be listened to from start to finish, was it hard choosing We Live As We Dream as the lead single or was it always an obvious choice?
It was quite difficult. Not only because I wrote the album to be a holistic experience, but it’s difficult to pick out one song that encapsulates the essence of an album that dips into so many genres and sounds. But I once read somewhere that if you have one standout, “obvious” single, then you’re not ready to release an album, so I guess I take some comfort in the difficulty of that decision.
3. The spoken word passages are a key feature of Pale Shadows of Forgotten Names, would you tell us more about the people reading these lines?
With the exception of Leo, they were all done by friends of mine. The passage on “We Live as We Dream” was read by Adam Gordon, a very talented writer, director and singer. In “A Thousand Years of Raindrops” my good friend Lisa White, also an exceptional soprano, read the passage. And the passage in “The Momentary Centre of the Universe” was read and also written by Andrew Gordon, a very talented songwriter and the singer/guitarist from the band Late Fees that I also play bass in.
4. Tell us about the equipment used, what instruments feature on Pale Shadows of Forgotten Names?
A bit of everything really: it’s your typical rock band stuff at its core – guitar, bass and drums – but there are also some string sections, piano, drum machines and plenty of synthesizers.
As for equipment, I used my 2012 Fender American Standard Stratocaster, my Fender American Professional Jazz Bass, and the first guitar I ever owned: a 16-year-old, brandless, ¾ size nylon string guitar that sounds so much better than it has any right to. Making the record at home meant I wasn’t able to record any live drums or cranked amps, but amp simulation technology and sample libraries have come so far in recent years that that really isn’t an issue anymore. I got most of my guitar sounds from my Line 6 POD HD500, which most gear snobs would turn their noses up at but I think is an excellent bit of kit for anyone on a budget. I recorded my bass through the incredible Alpha-Omega Ultra pedal by Darkglass, the cabinet emulation of which is so good that it pretty eliminates any need for a bass amp, in my opinion. I also used a lot of virtual instruments too: the acoustic drums came from the Superior Drummer and GetGood Drums sample libraries, and the piano and strings sounds came from the incredible LABS series by Spitfire Audio. And finally, all the synth sounds were generated using Serum and Ableton’s Analog and Wavetable.
5. All of your artwork features animals on the cover, is there a relation between the content of your work and the animals depicted here?
Not really in the sense that the music sounds how the animal looks or anything. I’ve just always thought it was quite cool when bands had a running theme in their cover arts: like The White Stripes’ red, white and black colour scheme, or the colour albums by Weezer. Also, because my music varies so much between projects, I liked the idea of having some kind of common thread that links it all together. And what’s a better branding than cute animals?
But being completely honest, the truth is I just love my friends and I’s pets. It started with my first EP, “Studies”, where I wanted to immortalise the memory of my dogs by having them featured on the cover art. After that, I used a picture of one of my friend’s cats on the follow up release and then it just kind of became a thing.
6. It must be hard to write and record every part of an album, then hand it over to a mix engineer. The record was mixed by Ross Cairns, were you over his shoulder at every stage or did you leave him to it?
Not at all! I’ve known Ross for almost ten years now and, as well as working on various musical projects together throughout that time, we’ve also become really close friends. Working with someone for that long, you build a lot of trust with one another and develop a common language, and that kind of rapport is crucial to things getting done efficiently and done well. Aside from that, Ross also has a very identifiable sound in his productions: very clean, with a lot of stereo width, and he’s also great at making sure that every element within a song is heard and each instrument is not fighting with one another, which are all very important for tracks as dense as some of these.
So no, aside from a making a few adjustments myself here and there, I left him to it for the most part. There is nobody I trust more when it comes to mixing and mastering, whatever the project.
7. I love the cinematography in your film companion piece, did you give Ross Cairns much direction in what you wanted?
Thank you so much!
A little. As much as I love films, I know only the very basics of the technical side of making them. I came to Ross with only vague ideas of the kind of shots that I wanted for each track, and some tracks I had no idea at all so we fleshed those out together. But most of my input was at the editing stage, the actual cinematography I’d say was pretty much all Ross.
8. There are lots of mirror-images in the film, does this relate to the music at all?
It was more of an aesthetic decision. Ross used the effect in a few shots in an earlier cut and after seeing that, I just wanted more throughout the whole thing. I’ve always liked things that look dreamy or surreal, and reflections are often at the core of how these effects are achieved, like in prisms, kaleidoscopes, infinity mirrors etc. Aside from being really pretty, I find these things to be quite hypnotic and calming, which I hope will make it easier to people to engage with the audiovisual experience as a whole.
9. What were some of the locations used in the film?
The trees in the opening shot were filmed in Alexandra Park, one of my favourite spots in Glasgow. “We Live as We Dream” and “The Momentary Centre of the Universe” were both filmed in Cumbernauld, where Ross and I grew up. The beach in “An Odd Sense of Ending” is in Troon which, on a sunny day like in the video, is easy to forget is actually in Scotland. And the stars in “A Thousand Years of Raindrops” were shot from Galloway International Dark Sky Park. We got some great shots but they really don’t convey how truly breathtaking the views are there. It’s a very beautiful place.
10. How I Killed The Earth is unsettling both in sound and vision, what was this inspired by?
It was inspired mainly by learning about anti/danger-music - not so much the driving-a-bulldozer-through-the-venue part, but more the idea of rebelling against the concept of music itself. I’ve been a professional musician for 2 and a half years now and, while I’ve had a lot of great experiences, there are also a lot of frustrations that come with turning your passion into a job. Adhering to conventions sometimes prevent you from fully expressing ideas you have, you often have to inhibit yourself when collaborating with other people and it’s easy to end up feeling disillusioned with music. So I wanted to write something that subverted these conventions in a more extreme way than I had before: something arrhythmic, dissonant, unstructured, etc., embracing everything that usually means you’re doing music “wrong.” It was one of the most cathartic musical experiences I’ve ever had.
In saying all that, the track is also a kind of love letter to noise music as a whole. As a metal fan at heart, always looking for increasingly more extreme music, having my perception of music challenged like it was when I first heard noise music was very exciting. I think there’s something really beautiful about the way these soundscapes, that aren’t tethered to any comprehensible musical theme or idea, can offer an escape from meaning, with everyone who engages with it creating their own unique experience. It’s like a kind of optimistic nihilism. I’ve had some very enlightening experiences listening to this kind of music and, while maybe not quite to the same degree as listening to a full Merzbow record or something, if I could give someone even a taste of that experience or prompt them to seek out more, then that would make me really happy.
11. Looking to the future, is Pale Shadows of Forgotten Names something you could play live? Would you want to play it live?
I guess it is possible, but unlikely any time soon. I wrote these songs not only as a form of self-expression, but also to showcase my abilities as a composer/arranger, with the hope of breaking into the realm of film/video game scoring etc., rather than my abilities as a live performer. That means they also weren’t written within the constraints of being able to be performed live, so to deconstruct them and gather all resources necessary to recreate them would be quite an arduous process. But if someone were to give me a band, a string section and all of the hardware synthesizers that I modelled on the record then sure, I’d absolutely love to perform it live, but I don’t see anyone making that kind of investment any time soon.
Michael Hamilton can be found on instagram @michaelhamiltonguitar, follow his and Ross' adventures @superslidemedia there too.
