One listen.

I didn’t go in with any particular aims, but I feel I should have. May not have been within the spirit of what I try to do with this series of writing, but I feel it may have helped. Still, I covered the song quite well, I think.

Underworld’s “Peach Tree” is from I’m a Big Sister, and I’m a Girl, and I’m a Princess, and This Is My Horse. The release is part of their Riverrun project which, as far as my understanding goes, was an experiment in releasing music in non-traditional ways that ran from 2005 to 2006. “Peach Tree” was also included in the single releases for their songs “Crocodile” and “Boy, Boy, Boy”.

I hope you enjoy.–

Calm, peaceful. Inner, wide, and electronic vocals crackle like static. They hum and say something distorted, something present and beyond. Murmur in the cracks, and the sound they run alongside remains calm.

More voice comes in, and it remains indistinct. These are words, and these words are said carefully. They are said with precision, and they can almost be made out. Their meaning can almost be found. Through them comes an idea of motion; an idea of moving forward, toward somewhere, toward something.

The sound that started it all finds itself joined by others more prominently as it itself comes into more prominence. Shifts in the melody, shifts in the spread as it comes more and more forward, and some voice becomes clearer, yet still seems indistinct. There’s that clarity; there’s that vagueness. They disappear. They return.

Sound pulses and pulses in patterns and carry all that peace, and there seems to be something complete and broken coming forward. An intensity is rising, but it is not pressure, and the vocals continue as though a rhythmic pattern at this stage, and percussion appears and rises and reaffirms shape strongly suggested.

There’s a driving energy here, but there’s still that calm, and it seems looking out and over a landscape as moving through it, moving past everything, and one thing anchors it all. One thing remains constant, and voices make comments, disconnected, fragmentary. Everything shifts and pushes out with more force, and more detail comes to view. More grounding, more in the moment.

More voice harmonising with the main melody, more mutterings. More murmurings. More moving forward, taking everything in, rushing past it all, rushing calmly. More in the moment and letting it guide and lead to wherever everything goes. And it goes.

The sound of everything remains something washing over, covering, not smothering. It holds and lets release, but it keeps control. It lets it all flow out, but it lets it all flow out as realisation, or perhaps it doesn’t at all. And it lowers the moment as percussion fades away, and voices calmly lapping at the moment, echoing, rising off of the peace. Rising and disappearing, and the song suddenly ends.