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On last year’s “Heavy the Mountains, Heavy are the Seas,” atmospheric folk artist Jakob Battick was finding solace in his creations, singing, “These songs, they are my home.” But on his latest release, “Bloodworm Songs,” we find him repeatedly asking, “Which way is home?”
There is a feeling of discovery throughout the five tracks on this album. The formula is the same — down-tempo, sprawling folk tunes, with ghastly voices and sparse instrumentation — but the desperation of his last album is traded for a more calming wonderment.
Instead of settling into his sonic landscapes, Battick is still exploring. The comfortable and familiar are too easy, so Battick has receded into harsher sounds and longer arrangements, abandoning traditional structure.
Each of the two “Bloodworm Songs” are ambient collections of lost recordings, tape noise and other musical rumblings. On “My First Bloodworm Song (Up in the Sky),” drawn-out tones bleed into one another — the exact instrument they come from is indistinguishable. Distant murmurs create a melancholy presence. “My Second Bloodworm Song (Fed Through Isinglass)” is an ode to Penderecki’s “Threnody for the Victims of Hiroshima,” a jarring chorus of screeching and weeping.
Aside from the obvious musical experiments, Battick’s songwriting is taking new shape. Take “Nine Brothers & the Wolf,” which returns from “Heavy the Mountains” to close out the album. On “Heavy the Mountains” it was a bass-heavy, drowned out lullaby that lasted 6 minutes. On “Bloodworm Songs” it’s 10 minutes of dizzying grandeur. The arpeggiated guitar notes dance around in more directions than ever before, while the floor tom’s rhythmic thunder crashes against the screeching violin.
Even the most straightforward of the songs, “Three Orphans,” is a slow-burner of a folk ballad. Alternating two-note lines and a reverby trio of vocalists constitute the backbone, as Battick and company carefully build the song piece by piece. Then it drops to just Battick and guitar. When the full band kicks back, it’s enough to jostle even the weariest of listeners.
The first chords of “Leper K” appear out of ghostly white noise and the repeated chords gather momentum from there. The sheer mass of Battick’s arrangements seems to be what makes his songs so slow.
It is on this track where Battick and his dreamy choir wonder, “Which way is home?” They offer suggestions, but with such escalating movement, it’s more about the journey than the destination.
“Bloodworm Songs” is a beautiful and intriguing installment into Battick’s discography. The Bangor native — and current Portland resident — isn’t so much a songwriter as an artist through music. Perhaps music became his medium of choice because it’s never static.
“Live at the Oak + The Ax” — his live album packaged with “Bloodworm Songs” — captures many of the same songs in reimagined yet familiar ways. For instance, “Nine Brothers” appears yet again — this time in a 7-and-a-half-minute form to open the set where the signature arpeggios disappear at the end.
It sounds remarkably complete for a live album, proving his dreamscapes aren’t studio trickery and overdubs but real sounds.
Retreating into Battick’s world can be a little much. Gloom — even beautiful gloom — grows tiresome. But Battick continues to awe by repeatedly capturing such a vivid and distinct mood in his music. The further he wanders trying to find where he belongs, the more complex and intriguing this world becomes.
Bangor Daily News