Welcome to the stormy voyage through rock band Talma’s debut E.P. Out to sea.
You’re in the middle of the sea. Empty horizons surrounding you. Brisk biting winds encapsulate the air-from every direction they’re pulling at your hair, snatching at your skin as the freezing ocean slowly laps up the side of your row-boat. You’re lost. Alone. Out to sea with nothing but a paddle. And then…
A rippling melody drowning in chorus lunges out of the treacherous ocean below. The teetering water reaches over your boat. A familiar guitar trickles its solemn song, taking on the calm after the storm. An ode to the seascape, Talma’s Starless skies curls up in a gentle wave around you. A bleak amalgamation of broken vocals and weeping guitar come raining down in a slow, light downpour.
The deep Editors’ styled vocals whisper on the wind. Talma’s Henry Adams loses himself in the confusion of the rain and sudden crashing waves of drums, until his voice is an echo drifting into the background.
Unfortunately, his low vocal line comes off a little basic; the stripped back and untouched sound is drab. It almost sounds like something from a musical – there’s a restrained quality as though it’s trying desperately to be rock but without ostracising anyone. With all of the effects that saturate the Shoegaze style guitar, and syncopated lightning drums, the vocals fall flat. They’re disinterested and can’t help but be submerged in pool of soft guitar melody and thick chords – never to be heard again. All can be forgiven though, with the promising hint of a powerhouse vocal nearing the end of the track – the illuminating beacon of a brighter lightning burst.
Suddenly we flash back to the beginning of your voyage with Out to sea. The title track is taking place in the middle of a bleak night; you’re gazing out to shore with the hope of adventure pulling you into the vast ocean. There’s a darker heaviness to the guitars and bass which cast up a dreamscape of wanderlust.
You contemplate leaving the beach behind as the pop punk emo-esque vocals tempt you, stating “it’s time to look forward”. A sultry guitar dances across the grey skyline, joined by its partner of hopeful riffs.
With the pulsing drums and suddenly courageous instrumental, you charge forward into the depths of the ocean aboard a broken down row-boat.
Once again the guitar tone is dripping with chorus, but there’s a puddle of distortion added in the instrumental which demands attention in a whirling solo. It calls up a tempest of thunder in sharp, gritty chords – a precursor to the eventual storm that will leave you cast out in the ocean.
There’s a crazed battle raging here between the lightning and the sea. The forces of light melodic guitar versus the tag team of darker barren bass and rhythm guitar continue in a back and forth, only to be egged on by the eager drums. And then, with a crack of light across the sky, in a solemn farewell the brighter guitar wins and your rowing your way into the eye of the storm.
Fast paced drums and riveting guitar riffs call up an oxymoronicly gentle storm. Waves speed up slightly. Yet, you feel them start to subside as a calmer introduction from the next track subdues your panic into a false sense of security. But not for long.
Disaster. You’re paddling frantically as the tornado of drums from Lifeline’s chorus pulls you in. You find yourself questioning “how much longer can i stay” as the vocals echo your panic. Gradually brewing, the storm is getting stronger with each repetition of a new chorus, only to fall back into a softer verse. As inconsistent as the autumn weather, the pace in this track swirls from upbeat to relaxed with each introduction of a new segment.
Finally the song decides upon a rhythm as the tension from the vocal builds into, the now common, higher pitched cadence.
Parts of your boat begin to break off, marrying themselves to an unrelenting sea. Each fragment kisses the sides of your boat, forming the sounds of In circles’ hodgepodge drum beat. Swiftly the boat seems to dissolve into the terrifying ocean below. And just as soon as the track begins, your pulled out of this scene and into the real world.
It’s a shame, but there seems to be a terribly thin drum machine loop forming the rhythm of this track. It’s disappointing as it sounds as though it was lifted straight from a digital audio workstation computer program like Logic or Garageband.
Actually, the whole of In circles seems to pull you out of a thunderous stormy seascape, and instead reminds you of the real world. It goes entirely against the escapism music provides, falling into the realms of background music. All of a sudden the rock style from the other songs has dissipated into a lazy electronic dance track, complete with cheesy backing vocals and guitar solo. It just doesn’t fit with the album.
Oh, and then there’s the dreadful guitar solo towards the end of the song. It’s messy, barging its way into the middle of underlying riff. The clash is not pleasant to hear.
And with this, the entirety of the E.P becomes tainted. The songs of before are tiptoeing into meek and sad, but they’re just not fully committed to diving into that feeling. Tracks like Starless skies and Lifeline are now only vaguely mourning and reflective – a light drizzle compared to a downpour.
Overall the album feels a bit on the safe side to be considered ‘alternative’ rock – it’s more diluted rock. Nothing stood out as different, and unfortunately I don’t think I’ll remember them in a few weeks.
In a world of The Smiths and Editors, Talma’s E.P is blending into the background; It’s a good sound but it’s not different or unique enough. They haven’t got their own stamp that screams “we are Talma”. Of course I can appreciate what they’re trying to do, but perhaps they’re not all the way there yet. They’ve got potential but they’re not utilising their best qualities (guitar playing ability and gorgeous tone).
If rock were a raging sea storm, Talma’s Out to sea would be the calm shortly after. They’re the cacophony of echos, not the original clean-cut blaring call.
