MIXTAPE: Lowland Hum’s Songs for Dusk

We’ve put together a group of songs that feel related to dusk: the transition moments between day and night. Included in our thinking about dusk are the days in between each season.. winter to spring, spring to summer, summer to fall and fall to winter days. We all need help in our times of transition, as we are being stretched, strained, or pressed between what was and what is to come. The songs that assist us in these travels seem to have an unplaceable quality, both disorienting and comforting like a sweet, warm drink with salt scattered on its surface.

The unique combination of anticipation and farewell allows these songs to occupy paradoxical thematic and sonic space. We need songs like these so we can bring more of ourselves into the present. So, we humbly offer this grouping of songs to accompany you in transitions of all kinds, whether they be literal dusks, the days between seasons, or simply moments where this particular tone may be soothing, cathartic, comforting or augmenting. To paraphrase something we read on The Milk Carton Kids’ Mixtape… “we include our songs aspirationally and for self-promotion here.” — Lowland Hum 

Aldous Harding – “Zoo Eyes”

We love Aldous Harding’s ability to shapeshift, morph, and play in her music while remaining vulnerable and human. It reminds us that those are all options we can choose as well when creating. Her most recent album, Designer, is delicious.

Bob Dylan – “He Was a Friend of Mine”

This song has always stood out to us as a deeply compassionate and humanizing song that packs so much into its few and deceptively simple words. It reminds me of the wordlessness that comes with deep grief. At the anniversary of George Floyd’s death I think of the great losses our nation has experienced this year and the way all words felt clumsy and insufficiently small in the face of such dumbfounding, dark and evil things.

Big Thief – “Open Desert”

We’re having a hard time finding what’s not to like about anything and everything coming from Adrianne Lenker (and her band) these days.

The Beatles – “Julia”

This melody is so wistful, dreamlike, sad, and lovely. “When I cannot sing my heart I can only speak my mind, Julia, sleeping sand, silent cloud, touch me so I sing a song of love, Julia.”

Radiohead – “You and Whose Army?”

The beginning of this song makes us feel like we are suspended in shimmering stardust thick enough to hold a person’s weight. The arrangement blooms so patiently until you suddenly tumble down a flight of stairs. That a recording can do that is one of the main reasons we organize our life around music.

Antonio Carlos Jobim – “Look to the Sky”

I mean, are you not slow dancing by yourself on a terra cotta tile patio, barefoot, with a cocktail in hand when you hear this?

Labi Siffre – “Cannock Chase”

The combination of this picked guitar and gently shuffling percussion sounds like being in the car at dusk with the windows down, scenery flying by.

The Zombies – “Beechwood Park”

We’ve listened to this album so much in the past few years, but somehow only really noticed this song and its magnificence in the past week. Now we are obsessed.

Nick Drake – “Free Ride”

To us Nick Drake always sounds like sunlight filtering through the leaves of trees. Although this one carries a bit more urgency and pep than some of his other songs, this one is no exception.

Myriam Gendron – “Solace”

This song comes from an album of Dorothy Parker poems put to music by Myriam Gendron. The whole album is like a friend sitting silently beside you when you’re feeling a lot. You probably need it in your life.

Keur Mossa – “Quand le fils de l’homme viendra”

This song comes from an album that has been an immense comfort to us in times of transition. When far from home, while working on building our studio in early morning light, while in labor with our first child… It’s a beautiful treasure of humanity reaching toward divinity.

Tiny Ruins – “One Million Flowers (solo)”

This album is all solo guitar and voice versions of Tiny Ruins’ full-band album Olympic Girls. Hearing these songs stripped to their skeletons showcases how strong her songwriting and voice are. Though we were fans of the full-band album first, we prefer these versions hands down. We aspire to make songs that can stand on their own naked or dressed up.

Lowland Hum –”We Do What We’re Told (Milgram’s 37)”

This is our cover of Peter Gabriel’s “We Do What We’re Told (Milgram’s 37)” from his album, So. We covered that album in its entirety, calling our version So Low. Our version came out on the 35th anniversary of the original’s release.

Lou Reed – “Perfect Day”

This song is a cocktail of equal parts bummed-out and triumphant. How he does it we don’t know, but we love it.

Frank Sinatra – “Mood Indigo”

The strings and reeds in this song are like sitting on a fire escape in the warm balmy breeze of a summer evening. Sinatra’s delivery is so subtle and masterful. You can’t go wrong with any song on In the Wee Small Hours.

The Weather Station – “Trust”

We have long been fans of Tamara Lindeman. Her songwriting is like a window into the unspoken dialogue of real relationships.

Arthur Russell – “Close My Eyes”

This song is so visual to me (Lauren). It reads in the mind like a bedtime story complete with dark oil pastel illustrations. I dare you to close your eyes and not see it all.

Gold Connections –”Confession”

Will Marsh of Gold Connections is a dear friend of ours but we promise we aren’t biased. They just released this single and we can’t get enough of it. This song has it all: city and desert; neon signage and the kind of starry sky that can only be seen when you are far from civilization.

Bruce Springsteen – “Nebraska”

Tragic, startling, beautiful. Daniel always says he believes in this album because it gave him compassion for a mass murderer. That’s some power right there.

Paul Simon – “Night Game”

What a stunning and mournful number. Who knew a song about baseball could feel so mystical? Hold out for the otherworldly harmonica solo by Jean-Baptiste Frédéric Isidor. This one has comforted us on many a late-night drive.

Adrianne Lenker – “forwards beckon rebound”

This whole album is a treasure. This song has such a great momentum while remaining quiet.

Martin Denny – “Trade Winds”

This exotica album is a staple in our household during our newborn son’s bathtimes. But we find it perfectly appropriate for listeners of all ages and stages. It is perfectly campy and yet transportive.

Lowland Hum – “Waite”

We felt that we needed to include at least one original Lowland Hum song, so here’s our duskiest. This song was written while on tour in Europe in 2017. We were playing a house concert in a landscape painter’s home studio and gallery (Andy Waite is the name of the painter and now friend) and the guitar part mysteriously came to Daniel while we were setting up in the space. Something about being in a home so steeped in one person’s creative life and flow was magical. There was a very real substance in the air that mysteriously found its way into Daniel’s fingertips as he was messing around on guitar.


Photo credit: Tristan Williams

Committing to Reality: A Conversation with Marlon Williams

Marlon Williams staked his name on grandiose vocals and an adventurous sound stoked by the Americana fire. When the New Zealand singer/songwriter began touring the States behind his 2016 self-titled debut, his ramped-up “Hello Miss Lonesome” showcased a breathtaking sustain in that it quite literally took Williams a good deal of breath to hold the opening “Hello.” Yet, on his sophomore album, Make Way for Love, he sheds those theatrical moments to pursue a different sound. Williams lets his voice break, searching out quieter moments reflective of his inner anguish, as he worked his way through myriad passions: jealousy, possession, self-loathing, and the one fueling them all, heartbreak.

Heartbreak, as a theme, seems to be the modus operandi for many a singer/songwriter. If they’re not singing about love, they’re singing about its opposite. While Williams wrote his debut through the perspectives of several characters — letting their voices form a barrier to keep his true self private — Make Way for Love takes a different tack. The songs detail his breakup from fellow New Zealand singer/songwriter Aldous Harding. (Interestingly, Harding appears on the penultimate song, “Nobody Gets What They Want Anymore.” The duet, a conversation between former lovers, hangs with a haunting echo of all they’ll never be able to say to one another.) But beyond that overarching subject matter, Williams tackles issues of communication — how seemingly impossible it is to convey an entire truth to another person, let alone oneself.

If Williams was influenced by alt-country and indie folk on his debut, he shows threads of Roy Orbison, Scott Walker, Anohni, and even Jeff Buckley on Make Way for Love. “Can I Call You” begins with an antiquated piano, its keys plunked one by one in heartbeat fashion, before Williams practically pleads the title. One of the album’s standouts, “I Know a Jeweller,” touches on his former sound while nodding at turns to surf rock. With Orbison-like vocals, he demands with a voice oscillating between hope and despair, “Make me a ring for the one who is too afraid to try.” Heartbreak may be old hat for singer/songwriters, but Williams uses it to spin a new thread for his musical development. It is, at once, a man looking around at the wreckage, and a glimpse at a promising musician who’s finally letting his guard down and allowing listeners to get a touch closer.

Your debut involved so many characters and narrators. Besides the heartbreak radiating from the center, why did it feel necessary to peel back those narrative devices and insert yourself more personally this time?

I think the word “necessary” is a very on-the-point description. That’s really how the whole process felt. I didn’t feel I could be so removed this time around, and circumstances were such that I just felt compelled to make a record that was pretty much entirely coming from a personal point of view.

How did you handle the business of confessing and revealing just enough without giving too much of yourself away?

It kind of felt like a crime of passion, you know? I hadn’t really written a song at all in nearly two years and then, in the space of just over three weeks, 15 songs came out. There were ideas that had been floating around in my head for a long time, but there was a fear or reticence about committing them to any sort of reality. It really just happened and I sort of woke up a few weeks later with blood on my hands, and I didn’t know what had happened.

Do you think, if it hadn’t happened that quickly, you might’ve overthought that process more than you let yourself at first?

Yeah, it feels like I sort of blindsided myself. I have always had that relationship with songwriting, where it’s done very frantically and out of fear, really, and I’m left with the results. There’s not a lot of discipline or intentionality going into the way I do it.

I understand that underlying fear, though. You know you have to get it out, but the process can be so overwhelming at times.

Yeah, I don’t listen too closely to myself, so I came out with all these songs, and it wasn’t until right at the end of the process where I realized sort of what I was doing and how personal a body of work it was. I found myself having to choose to make this commitment, this, “Well, I’ve gotten so far with all these songs, is this the right way to do this?” I realized that I had to take the plunge and just commit to it.

It reminds me of the Polar Bear Plunge, where people dive into the icy water so quickly they don’t feel the pain.

That’s the artistic version of that, yeah. [Laughs]

I’m curious if there was any kind of emotional truth you were hoping to unfold over the course of this project, but maybe you weren’t even aware of it until it all came about.

Yeah! I really think it was a means of processing and as real a therapy as anyone ever receives.

Your first album contained such big vocals — both in terms of the volume and also your ability to sustain a note. This is quieter and more introspective for good reason. How did you see your voice serving this project?

I feel like, with this album, I wasn’t writing vocal parts; I wasn’t consciously trying to crack little vocal tricks. All the vocals are serving the song first, so my voice ends up in different and interesting situations that it wouldn’t normally end up in because some of these songs, I guess, represent feelings I’ve never had. “I Didn’t Make a Plan” is just, “This song feels like it wants to be sung down here.” It’s not a part of my personality, but this is what the song wants to do, so it’s what I’ll do.

There are so many styles taking place on this album. What were you listening to ahead of time to shift your mindset away from what you’d recorded in the past?

A lot of stuff. A lot of Scott Walker, obviously. That intensive vocals and tone that’s slightly off and darker than the more obvious Roy Orbison and …Well, obviously Scott Walker is a strange dude. Trying to listen to stuff that really brings my own sense of what I do, of what I’m capable of doing, and how I want to use my voice and present songs. It sort of shifted.

Make Way for Love has been touted as a heartbreak album, but of course any kind of label can be restrictive in a sense. Did you find yourself pushing past those limitations in any way?

The term “heartbreak album” sort of smacks a little bit of sensationalism into it, in a way. But also I’m really curious and really enjoy watching the album squirm under the moniker of “breakup album.” It’s interesting when you give labels to things how you see … I heard someone refer to it as a heartbreak album, and then I listened back to the album myself, and it’s a really interesting re-learning process for me as the album is heard by more and more people.

The song “Nobody Gets What They Want Anymore” is beautifully bleak. Have you reconciled yourself to living with that understanding?

Well, look, that sort of resignation is not eternal nor should it be. It was in the context of the subject matter of the album. I’d sort of come to live with that, I guess. [Laughs]

You can be happily melancholic, as they say.

Yeah, exactly. You can wear sadness well, and it’s fine.

Most of the album is written from a certain perspective, but “Nobody” turns into a dialogue. Why choose to have another character speak on the matter?

I found myself in a unique position of being able to give a voice to … if we’re speaking frankly, there aren’t many breakup albums that are engaged with the subject that the album is about, and kudos to Aldous [Harding] for agreeing to do that. We always had that sort of thread running through our relationship from the get-go, so it didn’t feel that weird to potentially do that.

What was the recording process like?

It was detached and weird. It was one of the last songs we recorded, when we were [recording] in California. I had my parts all done, and then the last thing we needed was her part, but she didn’t record it for another couple of months. She did her part while she was in Cardiff and Wales, and I was in Portland, and we sort of talked it through on the phone. It was a very fitting way to do it.

No kidding, especially considering all the themes of communication that run across the album. To have this significant moment run across time zones and continents …

Exactly, yeah. I would’ve rather we’d done it in person, but it kind of fits.

Speaking of communication, have you thought much about the ongoing struggle to communicate with yourself, and what you’ve learned as a result of this album?

I need some time to think about that one. It’s big.

Save the big ones for the end.

Real big one, yeah! I do feel how I imagine people feel when they’ve been doing a bunch of therapy, where therapy is about picking away the scabs and having a good look at the wounds. I have this weird, manic ecstasy from thinking that you’re confronting these sorts of things. It’s like I’m an alcoholic, and I just want to tell everyone how great AA is. That weird ecstasy that comes from drastic perspective shifts.

I’m just trying to be slow with it and learn to be alone softly and without any pomp and circumstance. I’m having a really interesting and exciting time, where I am starting to feel some sense of individual completeness, which is kind of a new feeling for me.

And a hopeful one, too, I imagine. How do you slow yourself down when you talk about writing an album so quickly? It seems like it’d be tricky to make that momentum shift.

Yeah, it’s tricky, because you make something so quickly and then, by the very nature of what you’re doing, you have to spend so much time talking about it and pouring over it, and I believe you end up inventing the truth afterward. For that reason, I’m either discovering it or inventing it, as I go along. It’s constantly shifting in my hands. You need to be thoughtful and have some degree of slowness and a sense of space and respect for what you’re doing, at that stage.

Lastly, what kind of strings do you use on your guitar?

That’s a very functional question after …

I know!

I just use the Martin Retro strings when I can. Actually, the second album I recorded with an acoustic guitar — an old, beat up one — that I found in the studio because I forgot my guitar.

Oh my goodness. Yeah, and I guess you can’t go back for that once you reach California after leaving New Zealand.

I was kind of stuck.

It sounds beautiful on the album, so good find. That’s lucky.

Aww, thanks. Well, it was a shitty guitar, but sometimes shitty guitars are the ones you want.


Photo credit: Steve Gullick

3×3: Aldous Harding on Sunlight Soap, Little Puppers, and Driving in Rain

Artist: Aldous Harding
Hometown: Lyttelton, New Zealand
Latest Album: Aldous Harding
Personal Nicknames: Hannie, Hanwa, Handjob, Old Yeller, Heem, Babu, Lambykins, Bunnykins, Slazenger, Aldous. 

If Jesus, Buddha, Krishna, and Mohammed were in a band together, who would play what?
Krishna would play bass and guitar simultaneously because he had the eight arms for a while there (?). Not drums because it's not all about him; it's about the whole group. Mohammed on drums. I imagine Buddha and Jesus would share the keyboard. And they'd play "Tears" by the Crocodiles.

If you were a candle, what scent would you be?
Sunlight soap.

What literary character or story do you most relate to?
I have actually forgotten every book I've ever read after making this album. Probably Koroviev of The Master and Margarita.

How many pairs of shoes do you own?
Four​

What's your best physical attribute?
Well, it's certainly not my hair or teeth, is it?

Who is your favorite Bruce: Willis, Springsteen, or Lee?
I don't know much about any of them except Bruce Lee really loves water.

Animal, mineral, or vegetable?
Mineral. Lead, so I could rain down on all these cute little puppers.

Rain or shine?
You know I love both. We all do. Love being in the car when it's raining.

Mild, medium, or spicy?
Medium. Give me food and, as long as I'm not on some weird trip about body image, I'll f**king eat all of it.


Photo credit: William Lacalmontie