Hannah Peel & Paraorchestra - The Unfolding

The Quietus

An abiding memory from my childhood revolves around an unhealthy obsession I had with the 1940 Disney animated musical, Fantasia. As soon as the cloaked figures carrying torches of light to the strains of ‘Ave Maria’ completed their journey, leading us to a golden sunrise followed by the end credits, I would immediately rewind the VHS, watching it again from the start with unhindered enthusiasm. In the opening sequence, we see orchestra members settling into their positions, tuning their instruments. The conductor explains to us the three kinds of music that exist within the film. Firstly, there’s the kind that tells a “definitive story”, which is contrasted with that which is loose in plot but “paints a series of definite pictures”. Lastly, there’s “music that exists simply for its own sake”.

I often think about my early fascination with Fantasia. How completely devoted I was to its presence, how instantaneously it became ingrained in my mind. I wouldn’t experience such a curious dedication again until hearing Holly Herndon’s 2019 release, Proto. Whilst Herndon wasn’t necessarily seeking to present her interpretation of the inception of the wider world with that record, she instead used it as a clarion call for the role of AI in music. Where Fantasia, in part, explored the relationship between music and the evolution of humanity, Proto served to alter people’s perception of technology as something dehumanising. In doing so, Herndon gave listeners a startling body of work that – when you allow yourself to become fully immersed in – is sonically loose yet extremely effective in painting a fully realised world.

Music’s ability to convey a lasting image of the harmonious relationship between technology and organic orchestration is crucial in cultivating the story told across The Unfolding. A collaboration between Northern Irish composer Hannah Peel and the Paraorchestra, the progressive Bristol-based body that unites disabled and non-disabled musicians together. An important component to the Paraorchestra’s practice is melding analogue, digital, and assistive instruments. The results, as heard across these eight ambitious compositions, are completely spellbinding.

Across the LP, which passes by much quicker than its near-hour-long duration, there are several passages that rekindled the particular response to music that Fantasia and Proto ignited in me. The expansive opener, ‘The Universe Before Matter’ allows the listener to acclimatise to this sparse and unspoiled world. Initial strokes of instrumentation sound like the musicians tuning up and settling into this world themselves. Steadily, the song awakens with a bright luminosity, like the sun rising for the first time. At almost eleven minutes in length, the arrangement is unhurried and nimble for much of its duration. Here, Peel and the Paraorchestra establish a great depth of emotion emanating from the beautiful combination of the elegant instrumentation, the powerful presence of soprano Victoria Oruwari, and the ripples of optimism in the arpeggiated electronic motifs. The treatment is one that is effectively employed elsewhere on the track list, notably on ‘Passage’, ‘The Unfolding’, and ‘Perhaps It Made Us Happy For A Minute’.

There’s so much scope in these ambitious compositions. It cannot be denied that Peel and the Paraorchestra have succeeded in their world-building on The Unfolding. With regards to telling a story and presenting an accompanying visual, they do this best on ‘Wild Animal’ into ‘Passage’. This far more sinister couplet disrupts the tranquil environment established from the offset. Through the snarling synth interjections and the claustrophobic beat permeating the former, the listener instantly feels suffocated by the humidity and a relentless tension galloping throughout the arrangement. It genuinely feels as though you’re being hunted by a malicious beast. These darker and more electronic-focused compositions do well to incorporate some contrasting moods, creating tension within the album whilst maintaining a cohesive flow.

When Peel and the Paraorchestra splash colour on the compositions, they often do so with a similar mischievous spirit reminiscent of Phillip Glass’s spritely phrases. There’s the enveloping final movement of ‘The Unfolding’ teased by the interplay of the woodwind and electronic flourishes which return on ‘Part Cloud’. These exuberant textures offer much needed supporting roles in bringing some semblance of optimism into the album’s overall narrative. For the most part, there’s an overarching air of melancholy moving through The Unfolding’s track list. Typically, the mournful textures emanate from string parts amidst an unfussy arrangement anchored by a wistful note suspended from the synth. These moments have a tendency to reverberate in your mind long after stepping away from the record. It’s rather comforting to become immersed in The Unfolding’s melancholy. There’s a lasting beauty to these intimacies. So it’s distracting – disorientating, even – when ‘If After Weeks of Early Sun’ heralds a jarring tonal shift. Its uptempo pop sensibility drives through. Its intention feels completely out of sync with everything that precedes it. While it’s trying to lend an air of dynamism to the record, ‘We Are Part Mineral’ does this far more effectively through complimentary assistive instrument tones that align with the overall work.

Writing about The Unfolding for tQ, nature writer Robert MacFarlane (whose 2019 book Underland was a source of inspiration to Peel for this work) described feeling simultaneously “exhausted and exhilarated” when he finished listening to the LP. I can certainly understand MacFarlane’s position. There’s an infectious vibrancy captured across this collaboration, but it's not one that insists upon the listener. If anything, this mostly feels like music that exists for its own sake.

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A Closer Listen

Following the success of Fir Wave, a reimagining of Delia Derbyshire and the Radiophonic Workshop that was shortlisted for a Mercury Prize, Hannah Peel was not content to rest on her laurels.  She’s returned with what is in many ways an ever stronger album, while collaborating with the dozen-strong Paraorchestra, conducted by Charles Hazlewood, orchestrated by Charlotte Harding.  The rest of the credits are read in the final track, “The Unfolding Credits,” in a manner so lovely that one supporter names it his/her favorite track!  As so much music is now digital, listeners are rarely readers; liner notes are lost in translation; the generous Peel gives credit where credit is due.

While Fir Wave bore an environmental theme, The Unfolding focuses on humanity’s shared origins, with track titles that include “The Universe Before Matter,” “Wild Animals” and “We Are Part Mineral.”  The universe is essential to the universal.  In this spirit, a variety of performers is invited to the table without distinction.  As a result, the album yields a warmth like the early summer sun, the first tendrils of sound like the first glimmers of light.  The operatic vocals of the opener, inspired by Robert Macfarlane’s Underland, seek to awaken, uplift and inspire.  In retrospect, the vinyl mix-up that resulted in circles of orange rather than shades of sea seems a happy accident.

The widescreen opener is followed by the tribal, earthy “Wild Animal,” during which percussion takes center stage.  Peel suggests humanity as tribe, rather than tribes, intimating that humanity’s divisions exposes its animalistic roots.  As the album was recorded during a period of political fracture, the message is apt.  In the face of discord, Peel offers discourse, emphasizing “who we could all be.”  Leading by example, Peel makes her musical world a microcosm of her vision.

The title track is perfectly named.  Wordless vocals set the stage for the violin, joined slowly by the blooming orchestra.  Once most of the players are present, the song soars toward the heavens, with the xylophone implying chimes and the acquisition of angels’ wings.  This is followed by the joyous explosion of “If After Weeks of Early Sun,” in which the orchestra is freed to frolic.  At this point – the album’s equator – the ebullience feels earned.  Even the wistfulness of “Perhaps It Made Us Happy for a Minute” does not diminish the presence of possibility, but deepens it in contrast.

While one needs the liner notes in order to identify the participants, liner notes are not necessary to interpret the mood.  In the face of global trends, Hannah Peel remains hopeful, and translates her hope into sound.  (Richard Allen)

The Guardian 0

(Real World)
This overly orthodox classical-electronic crossover only occasionally captures the spirit of natural and cosmic forces