Review: Playgrounded ‘A Flower To Water’
One of the things that draws me to just about anything released by Berlin-based Pelagic Records is a shared vision of what post- (insert label) music could be. Whether it is the shimmering post-rock of Oh Hiroshima, the dark beats of Thot, or the hammer blow of Zatokrev, The Ocean Collective’s main man Robin Staps has gathered like-minded artists to join his quest to push musical boundaries.
The Athens by way of Rotterdam-based five-piece Playgrounded have been plying their trade since 2012 and drawn comparisons to divergent artists such as Deftones and Mogwai with their blend of cinematic soundscapes, neo-classical structures, electronica, and post-metal.
After drawing attention with their In Time With Gravity debut, they arrived on Pelagic for 2022’s follow-up The Death Of Death, a challenging and far-reaching album in terms of the sonic devices employed to stretch not only their sound, but the sound of the genre. Their sophomore release would earn Album of the Year at the Rotterdam Pop Music Awards and see them tour with The Ocean and LLNN, as well as earn slots at festivals like ArcTanGent and Euroblast.
A Flower To Water takes the platform the quintet have worked towards and expands their vision, thanks in part to the creative freedom afforded to them by their label, but also from the influence of loss, grief, growing with past mistakes, and patience.
Starting with the warm strings of the (almost) title track, A Flower…, the gentle guitars wash over you, light and airy with the start of a refrain that will subtly repeat. The synth comes like a sigh as the low, whispering vocals chant almost monastically. Sounds like the nagging of a ticking clock grow as the song mutates, drums begin to thump, and abrasive riffing starts to intrude on the atmosphere until discordant, jerking notes break the calm. The themes of the album deal with heavyweight emotions; there is a sense of decay and things falling apart as the band transition from smooth, soothing sounds to the heavier, distorted crunch.
Counting Embers continues this descent into the heavier side of their arsenal. Opening with a churning riff, electronics bubble under the surface. When they pull the rug out with the stark, gothic vocals, it reminds you of The Ocean with their ability to switch between the darker and more ethereal elements of their sound. The muted but poignant sentiment of ‘flowers burn’ sees them crash back in with their full weight. Over the grooving dynamics, the track remains unpredictable, a theme of the album for those not familiar with Playgrounded. Despite the frantic pounding, the plaintive voice of Stavros Markonis feels like it barely rises beyond a whisper except when he soars, his voice pushed by the emotion he channels.
The whole album flows, building to peaks and sinking again, capturing dizzying heights of euphoria and darker moments of despair…
Despite the multi-layered chants and bubbling electronics, Someone brings edgy, machine gun-like chugs and eerie sounds. Glitches interrupt the flow as the band manipulate the sound to contemplate and wallow in the moment, vocals lost in introspection as they hold you in the feeling. The ability to dance between complex thoughts and glide between musical passages is a testament to the band’s maturity and ability. The beautiful change of key in the vocals as they reach the final act of the song is incredibly moving and captures true heartfelt emotion that elevates it even higher.
Snow starts with the kind of electronic throb that I would associate with The Ocean when they start to build to one of their epics. Mellow and slow, Playgrounded showcase the emotional depth of their lyrics. Haunting and otherworldly for the first half, with commentary like ‘you are always in my heart’, the track feels like it should calm and comfort you. Hints of mania and unease grow in the second half as various elements are introduced that butt up against the dreamy sound, proving you don’t always need to bring the hammer down musically to add emotional weight and drama to be effective.
Without trying to reference their label mates too much, there are similarities to Of Air And Metals and The Ocean’s recent Holocene album. The moody, shuffling beat and incidental stabs of guitar blend well to create a sound that dances on the edge of heavy and drifting otherworldliness. Building up to moments of tension, they pull back from crashing over into full-on heaviness, keeping the listener waiting for the payoff. The track grooves and has underlying hooks that make it incredibly listenable as the layers upon layers of sound swirl around you: part film score, part indie shoegaze, and part post-metal. One of the striking things about this album is how they manipulate their sound to seemingly free you of the sense of time as you get lost in the movements of each component piece.
The final number, …To Water, with its bookending title, starts subdued, repeating the title like the affirmations of a mantra. As the track grows, the lullaby-like sounds shift from floating serenity to seeming misfires, ending an album that has drawn much inspiration from the works of experimental German composer Orson Hentschel. Like Hentschel, there is a searching quality to Playgrounded’s music that embraces the droning, electronic-heavy landscapes of melody and minimalism. As the deeper, stuttering riffs blend with the classical, sweeping majesty of the synths, it gives a sense of the album being more a piece of artistic expression than a collection of songs as the almost mournful climax rises and ebbs.
A Flower To Water is an impressive statement. The whole album flows, building to peaks and sinking again, capturing dizzying heights of euphoria and darker moments of despair, like a study of restraint and holding the audience in the moment. It may not capture every listener as it doesn’t explore the outer reaches of sonic heaviness or ambient tranquillity, but if you are of the mood and persuasion, it is a triumph.
Label: Pelagic Records
Band Links: Official | Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Mark Hunt-Bryden
