Hammock, Maybe They Will Sing for Us Tomorrow

by dave heaton

Hammock's album Maybe They Will Sing for Us Tomorrow grew out of a special occasion: the duo's first-ever live show, last August in Hot Springs, Arkansas. But it was more special than that sounds, even. It was at a loft party celebrating a nearby gallery's exhibit of art by Riceboy Sleeps (Jonsi Thor Birgisson of Sigur Ros and Alex Somers), their first exhibit outside of Iceland. And Hammock was playing live as sort of a gift to the artists. Instead of playing a usual set of their drifting space-rock/pop songs, they worked up a set of new music that took things to the next level. It was a gentle, gorgeous instrumental drone, played on just two guitars, which took their music further outward and inward than a "normal" concert of songs might of.

A special night has yielded a very special CD. For it, Hammock went into a studio and recorded the music they wrote for that show. Again they played only guitars, but some strings were added as well, and a light touch of vocals on one track. The added strings do not dominate, yet are sometimes easier to identify than the guitars. What we hear is sometimes hard to think of as "guitars" necessarily – that is, when I listen I'm too captivated by the overall feeling, the mood, the sound of the music to stop and think about how they created such wonderful sounds from guitars.

A watercolor by Riceboy Sleeps is on the front cover; a Polaroid of Hammock, taken the night of the show, is inside. The art and the story around the music's creation certainly add to the album's mystique, but the music itself has its fair share of self-generating mystique, of magic.

This is ambient music that drifts along as you might expect, but at each step of the way there's something very alert and alive about what's going on. It's not typically soothing music; it does soothe, but it feels like it's probing towards something deeper than just comfort. There are dark shades within these slowly turning clouds of sound – and a dose of melancholy, for sure -- yet the overall tone is more inspirational than forlorn; introspective, but looking outward as well.

This is patient music – I don't mean just that its pace is slow, which it is, but that the music itself inspires patience. It's the sort of art that slows life down to a gentle state, and adds a glow over it, emphasizing its mystery and humanity. If Darla Records were still releasing albums with the Bliss Out Series tag, this would be an excellent candidate, and would stand tall among the volumes in that series. Then again, it occupies an even more prominent position, in my mind, as an album that rises beyond the limitations of the form, to create a deeply emotional, meditative, almost mystical place of its own.

{www.darla.com, www.maybetheywillsingforustomorrow.com}