Two listens with a restart a small part into the way of one of them.

With this one I started looking to talk about what the instrumentation was doing but stopped doing that really quickly and instead talked about what the sounds overall were doing. Kind of.

Not sure if I did enough to cover the song, but I think I captured a sense of it, if that makes sense.

Camera Obscura’s “Cinematheque” is from To Change the Shape of an Envolope.

I hope you enjoy.

—

Bass plays out with a solidarity. It is lonesome, determined. Something comes in and throbs, something else begins moving. A sound rises far in the background, or perhaps it is underneath, then fades, then comes back, as though it is about to burst into focus. Then suddenly the rest of the instruments come in, wide, expansive loud, warm. Massive, atmospheric. Vocals float somewhere in the middle of it all as the whole thing just washes over and engulfs. They are there, barely audible as something creating words. Almost indistinct and more of a sound to grab hold amidst the mass of sound.

For a moment there seems a sense of rising in the music as though it is churning, though it lasts not long and a return to the verses is quickly found. Once more the sound stretches out and pushes, then churns again, then goes back to pushing outward. Then it churns once more, this time longer and with more heave.

The song’s closing comes in, this time with more melody. Fitting, yet harsh against what came before. The sounds rush as much as they don’t, and the sense of release moves onward, surging without abatement. A sound repeatedly rises to surface, almost as though it is riding the mass. Vocals stretch out more, still distinct yet indistinct.

Eventually the sound gradually diminishes and fades away. Scattering synth sounds come forward, begin to unify and start rising before getting cut off as the song ends.