Félicia Atkinson - Space As An Instrument (Shelter Press, 2024)
At the base is the piano. Over it, Félicia Atkinson delicately layers elements taken from her field recordings, sounds picked up by the microphone, the telephone lying next to her and recording. A voice that narrates in both English and French. Sometimes melodic, almost singing, then repetitive whispers. Birds chirping on ‘The Healing’, a leaf being turned over, footsteps,… These unintentional sounds echo through each song. An element that could have been disturbing becomes part of the sound. The wind, the lurching thunderstorm blowing violently into the microphone, creating a cloud of noise, as on the magisterial ‘Thinking Iceberg’. It’s thirteen minutes plucked from an hour and a half performance. But it sounds so perfect. As the piece progresses, Atkinson’s whispering voice echoes in your left ear. You imagine the chill and crackle of an iceberg. Imagination and sonic textures transport you to a wonderful world that you put on repeat endlessly. This is an album that draws you in so deeply that you disappear into the world Atkinson has created. You want to be closer to the source, to be completely enveloped by the sounds. Rarely does it become unsettling, only when the metallic drones on the extremely short ‘This Was Her Reply’ echo back to a vocal line of which you can only make out as ‘muddy waters’. On ‘La pluie’, the phrases ‘Je suis avec toi. I am with you’ are repeated endlessly. Wistful notes fall from the piano like raindrops. While the intro to ‘Sorry’ disappears completely in a gust of wind. Like a painter, she adds layers. Layers that don’t belong in the work, layers that add emphasis. On ‘Space As An Instrument’ Atkinson brews a soundtrack for your imagination. Listen to it over and over with headphones so you don’t miss a note.
Released on Shelter Press,