I grew up by the sea, happy, carefree hours spent playing on sandy shorelines, excitedly scrabbling over rocks as the waves noisily threatened frothy sprays of water, and exhilaration from the wind dancing in your hair as you scamper along chalky cliff tops. The sea. There is nothing quite like it—the smells, the sounds, the beguiling allure of cresting waves and the rippling currents which ebb and flow.
Now living in Oxford, I no longer enjoy either the measure of proximity or the peculiar intimacy which comes from letting your eyes linger and roam over the surface of the water. Yet, every day, something deep within calls to me with an aching fondness to be there again. It calls me home, not to a place of safety or security but to a curious world of things unfathomed, unknown and unexplored. Here, and only here, the unsettling possibilities of what lurks beneath exerts as significant, if not more of a presence, as that which can be seen above. The swirling, swelling surface is a suggestive threshold of interplay between the two.
Andy Nixon’s first solo album is not only profoundly discerning but also deeply moving. It imaginatively explores the richly nuanced intricacies of the waterline as a window for making sense of our experiences of life. It resonates deeply with the aching call I feel within, and I suspect those equally familiar with the unique pull of the sea will quickly discover a similar connection.
Across eleven meticulously crafted and beautifully painted musical vignettes, he deftly captures the intrigue and mystery, the promises as well as the threats – both visible and invisible – that play and mingle with each other on either side of the water’s surface. The music is elegantly nuanced, profuse in its subtlety and expansive in its exploration of life’s experiences, time and time again inspiring and provoking thoughtful reflection.
The opening track, Infinity Blue, is hauntingly languid. The echoed piano captures a wistful line of thought, evoking a sense of longing and a feeling of lostness. “There’s a boat on the water sailing gently out to sea / There’s a feeling I get when your eyes look at me.” The lyrics suggest a weary if intense, emotional journey. The sense of intrigue, of lonely thoughtfulness, muses to itself: “There’s a thought that sails around the surface of my mind / There’s an answer floating just below the waterline.” A passionate outburst from the guitar briefly disturbs the placid musical waters before reverting to peaceful tranquillity. It is the perfect introduction to what is to follow.
Tied (Track 3) brings a distinct change of pace whilst riffing on the myth of siren voices and the dangerous tides of addiction. “He took his chances and sailed across his black sea / Beneath the water lay relics from another time.” The ruinous collapse of dreams and hopes, a life fragmenting: “Tied to the mast by his own admission / To the sea he’s sailing on / Tied by the ropes of his own conviction / In the grip of the sirens’ song.” No one and nothing can break the spell: “She couldn’t reach him, just memories flowing through her / Into her heart like arrows shot from every vein / Tied to his past and tied to his future / He couldn’t find the right way to break out of the pain.” A forceful, penetrating guitar pierces a temporary space where the drums are silent, a cry of desperation before the beat returns to continue the cycle.
On Brother’s Water (Track 4) is a different kettle of fish (sic!) altogether. The light vocal adopts a narrator’s tone, recalling an 18th-century story of two teenage brothers who drowned crossing a frozen lake. The light opening transforms into a fuller, more substantial sound stage: “A dark December day / Two brothers on their way / Friends on the other side / All fears were cast aside / The ice thick on Broad Water / Like lambs before the slaughter / The sun and lake conspire / Fulfilling hell’s desire.” The guitar explodes with a boundless yet controlled energy. We can never be sure of our footing despite appearances. Vulnerability surrounds us at all times. Broad Water was later renamed Brother’s Water.
Bob Jackson’s (Badfinger) exquisite keyboard work completely steals the scene at the end of The Myth of Uncertainty (Track 5). If you listen to nothing else, my god, let this song soak into your soul. “Let your story take another turn, let the road wind / Let the furnace of ambition burn in your own mind.” Self-doubt is a terrible, crippling thing: “Undecided, hung between the devil / And the deep blue sea / The myth of uncertainty will rise.” A refrained, controlled, dignified guitar signals control, a sense of purpose, and certainty. Then the change comes: “I stood corrected, listened and accepted / Every word you gave / Felt connected, loosening the grip on / All the ego craved / And every mistake I made untied.” The keyboard seamlessly continues the thought, agile, bewitching and utterly, utterly seductive.
Still (Track 9) opens full of menace and threat, a brooding, ominous atmosphere riding on the back of a throbbing bass line. Think Covid. Think about the unimaginable impact on the NHS. Think about the unspeakable devastation on – and in – people’s daily lives. The almost casual and carefree cries of the guitar belie a vocal which speaks of desperation even in the midst of perseverance. “Still we just sail on as the storm, / The wind and the water flow / Come the Cold Moon we’ll be / Worn to the bone in the water below.” As Shakespeare’s Tempest rages uncontrollably, Louise Wilson’s (Kafkadiva) assuring vocals powerfully encourage and exhort – “Still we just sail on” – and we are happy to do so. Sail on, come rain or shine. We will endure.
The Waterline is, to my mind, a remarkable achievement. To pick just five songs for particular attention is tremendously difficult such is the exceptional quality of the songwriting across the entire album. These songs stand as a testament to the level of diversity you can expect to encounter from start to finish. The fiercely intelligent application of the concept and the ingenious exploration of the metaphor of the waterline creates an album which not only invites you to share the resonances cradled in each of the songs but serve as a musical tide which carries you along in their wake, sometimes supporting and embracing, at others threatening to overwhelm and engulf you.
Submerge yourself in this album’s perceptive charms, soak in its inventive delights and enjoy its delicious sophistication. Surf the playfulness of its musical currents and let it carry you to horizons that will repay repeated explorations and listens. Like the aching call of the sea that lies deep within, it will not fail to leave you unmoved or unchanged.
TRACK LISTING
01. Infinity Blue (3:46)
02. The Waterline (3:08)
03. Tied (6:18)
04. On Brothers Water (4:38)
05. The Myth Of Uncertainty (4:48)
06. Though You Set Me Free (4:08)
07. Moving In For The Kill (3:18)
08. The Wave That Takes Us In (3:29)
09. Still (5:24)
10. Widows & Bairns (3:09)
11. Best Of Your Days (3:05)
Total Time – 45:11
MUSICIANS
Andy Nixon – All Instruments
~ With:
Luke Brightmore – Drums (6)
Bob Jackson – Hammond Organ (5)
Louise Wilson – Backing Vocals (9)
ADDITIONAL INFO
Record Label: Independent
Format: CD | Digital
Country of Origin: U.K.
Date of Release: 19th July 2024
LINKS
Andy Nixon – Website | Facebook | Bandcamp | YouTube | X