ALBUM REVIEW: Little Weight – 40 Watt Sun
When writing his latest opus, Patrick Walker, the primary songwriter and driving force behind 40 WATT SUN took himself off to an isolated cottage off the coast of Cornwall. His mornings were spent walking along coastal paths and deserted beaches, while his days were spent in isolated, intense writing sessions. From there he embarked to the island of Gottland, Sweden where he reunited with long-time writing partner and drummer Andrew Prestige to flesh out the arrangements, again in isolation. Finally, the pair were joined by bassist Roland Scriver in a house in the Peak District where the trio refined the songs before hitting the studio. The result is Little Weight, an album born of isolation, self-reflection and very much a product of its surroundings; the dramatic beauty of the mountains, and the quiet, contemplative expanses of those coastlines can be heard on each of the album’s six tracks.
In his previous band, British doom legends WARNING, and across 40 WATT SUN’s previous three albums, Patrick Walker has made a career of mining the depths of the human condition to create poetic dirges that are seeped in melancholy, despair and grief. On Little Weight, however, it feels like he’s turned a page and although those themes are certainly still there bubbling under the surface, the overriding emotions he’s chosen to explore this time around are hope, love and optimism.
This is none more apparent than on opening track Pour Your Love. The song is built around a wistfully melancholic chord progression which washes over the listener like the waves lapping against those Cornish coastlines. “Lift the shame and suffering / Leave all your past your unwound / To rest upon my silence / Where I keep my body bound / And pour your love all over me / Through the broken walls that surround me” sings Walker in his distinctly reedy timbre that sits somewhere between Michael Stipe and William Holly Johnson, offering himself up to the song’s subject as a vessel for their pain in a way that allows them both to heal.
Half A World Away begins from a darker place, with morose chords ringing out from a clean guitar over a sparse drumbeat before beams of hope pierce the gloom as the soaring chorus crashes in. By no means as heavy as Walker’s previous band, the guitars are soaked in just enough fuzz to give gravitas to the tone whilst retaining enough clarity to allow the vocals to shine through. The band are masters at using space and dynamics to create atmosphere, making as much use of the notes they don’t play as much as the ones they do. That said, there is much more use of layering on this album, making Little Weight a much richer listen than previous efforts. Multiple listens reveal something new each time, a harmony here, or a subtly plucked acoustic guitar there, like noticing flowers blooming in a meadow you walk through daily.
Themes of darkness and light continue on Astoria, with Walker lamenting “All my life seemed like the lights out on the water / Lonely notes of clarity / But didn’t they shine?’, a heart-wrenching e-bowed guitar solo conveying just as much beauty and emotion as Walker’s poetic lyrics. The bassline from Scrive underpinning the track is warmer than an embrace from an old friend. A folksy shuffle underpins the gentle refrains of Feathers, and the wide open reverb on Walker’s haunting vocal exposes all his vulnerability. A gorgeous, slowly plucked guitar melody drenched in chorus cuts through the fuzzy guitars, enhancing the raw emotion of the track. An acoustic refrain in the second half provides one of the album’s tenderest moments, which slowly fades to silence.
Perhaps the album’s most personal pieces of poetry comes in the form of Closer To Life, which lends the album its title. “Feel your pulse against my skin / Feel the hope that holds me in” croons Walker over a languid arpeggio, and later “For all of my gravity / For all your becalming little wеight / Only tonight, I realise / You’re closer to life than I am,” that final line repeated to form the song’s triumphant hook. Final track The Undivided Truth has flavours of 90s brit-rock in its strummed, slightly distorted open chords, although its glacial pace and 10-minute runtime are more akin to 40 WATT SUN’s doom roots. It aches with melancholy and longing, serving as a final love letter to Walker’s muse.
For all its beauty, Little Weight is a challenging listen that demands the attention and the patience of the listener. You need to be ready to give yourself over to its emotional themes and have a big ol’ cry. On more casual listens the rich tapestry of emotion can fail to reveal itself, leaving a meandering, plodding experience. Like the coastal walks that inspired it, it really is worth taking the time to take in the views, breathe in the sea air, smell the flowers, and to get to know this record intimately.
Rating: 8/10
Little Weight is out now via Fisher’s Folly.
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