Home is where the heart is, that’s what they say. But we share our hearts with a lot of people and places over the course of our lives; sometimes, if we’re lucky, we can form a connection to a place that runs far deeper. Sometimes true home is something inseparably entwined with your very soul. No matter how far you roam you still feel a tether binding you, pulling you back. No matter how much you grow, it is the earth that your roots cling to. No matter how much life may try to weather you down, a part of you is forever cut from that same stone. The new single from Scottish singer/songwriter Rosie H Sullivan perfectly captures that sentiment. ‘Fragments’, a loving ode to the Isle of Lewis, relates how home isn’t something you give a piece of yourself to – rather you yourself are always a part of it. That love just radiates in every moment of the track, like her breath is one with the breeze and her heart beats in time with the waves upon the shore. The wistful, elegant arrangement, and Rosie’s dreamy vocals, ensure that this gorgeous single feels just as warm and comforting as a true home should.
fragments
Top Tracks: Quiet Sonia – Fragments
I’ve heard it said that art is how we decorate space, while music is how we decorate time. But some pieces of music seem to almost bend time to their own designs in a way that goes far beyond mere decoration. Some music can leave you so absorbed, that an age can pass and yet feel only like a fleeting moment. ‘Fragments’, from Copenhagen based chamber rock outfit Quiet Sonia, is just such a track. Though it takes you on a journey, it does not whisk you away with any sense of urgency. It’s a slow burner that shifts gradually from one elegant vignette to the next, while savouring the stillness in between. The deep brooding baritone of Nikolaj Bruus, reflective stream of consciousness style lyricism reminiscent of latter day Nick Cave, the interplay of cinematic strings, bright piano melodies and soft autumnal folk guitar; all these elements unfurl slowly to reveal their beauty. And yet, somehow, this sparse and sprawling eight minute opus feels so ephemeral and fleeting that you can’t help but want to stay awhile longer all the same.
Belwood Music 