The Humble Seaman is a new project which unites Bill Seaman and Craig Tattersall. For this project, they both attempted to work in a new way. Something that would’ve taken a long time – with thoughts, pre-planning, and general brainstorming still in their infancy – was completed in a matter of weeks. They attempted to work in the completely opposite way to what they were used to, working as quickly as possible and guided by nothing but musical intuition. From its start date to the finish line, the entire process was a sprint, taking something like 2-4 weeks. Strangely enough, the music never feels rushed. In fact, it’s quite the opposite.
During the recording process, the two musicians were able to try things out for size, adding new layers and instrumentation where they saw fit, and with no barriers or blockades to stop them in their tracks. The result is free-flowing music, colourful with tints of extreme brightness, and anchored with a deep calm. It’s quick to fall into an introverted rhythm, a series of soft undulations rocking against its little boat. That feeling of rest initially comes as a surprise, but the music’s fluid nature is further emphasised in the naming of its tracks – ‘Breathing Waters’, ‘Slow Tidal River’, ‘The Hymn of Noise’, which comes close to feeling like sanctification, and closing track, ‘The Anthem Of Quiet’.
The music instils a deep level of serenity, despite the opening, disruptive bullet-bursts of staccato, which quickly fade away, broken relics from an older work. They’re able to take their time, and as such, the music can walk at a slower pace. And there’s no doubt of its accomplished, smooth, and well-polished nature. This could be due to its ‘in-the-moment’ approach, but thankfully, music always retains something of its mystery. When things are good, things are good, and when the creative juices are flowing, nothing can stop them. When you’re on a roll, things happen. Creases are ironed out, crimps are straightened, as if the Universe were working in the music’s favour, unwinding everything, fixing things in the background until everything is as it should be, at exactly the right moment. The clock ticks on, but everything moves in slow motion; when you’re in the zone, the music slinks out from its secret space with ease, and a day feels like a mere hour.
Music pours forth when it wants to; you shouldn’t have to force what comes naturally. A relatively-short turnaround doesn’t really matter – and isn’t really relevant – when the music drinks as deeply as this. It comes naturally. Like love at first sight, it’s an instantaneous connection, and it’s produced high-level ambient.