Baths - Ocean Death

It’s made for a compelling back-catalogue with previous incarnations [post foetus] and Geotic every bit as ingratiating as Baths. From the beat tourettes, interrupted grooves and swelling ambience of 2010’s Cerulean to the morbid lyricism and gratifying grit of last year’s Obsidian there’s always been a sense of excitement with each twist and turn that the classically trained pianist turned beat-junkie takes.

Placed among the discourse of Baths’ releases, Ocean Death will mark somewhat of a mid-point between the restrained anguish and glitch-heavy Cerulean and the grinding beats and unashamedly sinister lyricism of Obsidian. Ocean Death is less abrupt than Obsidian, less frenetic than Cerulean, but every bit as captivating.

The eponymous opener is a gritty piece of slow-evolving electronica, the sound of dripping water as much a percussive loop as a sinister backdrop to Wiesenfeld’s pulsating synth lines. Continuing his lyrical focus on the macabre and the explicit, “burrow into my, bury your body into my graveyard” could as much be a sexual invitation as a self-aware comment on his near-obsession with mortality.

These are the themes that run through the whole of Ocean Death, as “Fade White” wryly inviting the listener to “come fade away with me”, his fluttering vocals and guitar lines every bit as otherworldly as the lyrical imagery. Wiesenfeld’s delicate falsetto vocals are dripping from every corner of the five tracks on offer here, loops building like layered synth chords on “Voyeur” whilst his characteristic choice of acoustic instrumentation is stripped of it’s usual context and thrown among hip-hop inspired beats.

The progression from experimental producer to songwriter that was so apparent between debut album Cerulean and Obsidian is continued on Ocean Death. Repeated lyrics such as the line “we can talk all you want but you don’t speak to me” on “Orator” as well as the prominence Wiesenfeld gives his vocal melodies, demonstrate a desire for people to connect to the music and its underlying emotion. The familiar bursts of static, beat-repeats and percussive peaks are still present, but on tracks like “Yawn”, concerned with a mundane, meaningless relationship, these tricks are used to support the lyrics, permeating the track with the regularity of a husky breath or sigh.

Ocean Breath is undoubtedly a phase for Baths, a mid-point in the infinite progression that his music will inevitably pursue. But as resting points go this is a happy place, a delicate balance between the erratic rhythms that first brought Baths to prominence and the accessibility that must precede his longevity. This is Will Wiesenfeld’s tentative bid for a wider audience whilst he fiercely clings to his dark sense of humour and complex rhythms. As with every release Wiesenfeld produces, it will only increase the anticipation for what is to come next.