Most immediately striking about Ian Hawgood’s Tents and Hills is the cute sleeve design by illustrator Kati Meden. Depicting a man contentedly camping with tent on hill, trees below and stars above, it seems best suited to a Morr Music indietronica release, but Hawgood’s fuzzy drones and field recordings give off a similarly cosy warmth.
It’s this latter element that lifts Tents and Hills above the norm, providing a sense of time and place – captured from camping and hiking trips – to works which otherwise might just drift off. Throughout we hear muffled sounds which place this music firmly outdoors, mostly the snap of twigs and crackle of leaves underfoot, but there’s also rhythm – built from syncopated rain drops on ‘Inland River Valley’, rattled sticks on ‘Wake Up Mountain’, and the din of conversation, most audible, ironically, on ‘Happy Alone’.
The musical elements are built from a host of analogue sources – pump organ, mellotron, guitar and old tube amps. They sound like it, buzzing and warping in rusty, organic ways, enveloping the outdoor clatter like a gentle breeze. Opener ‘October’ builds harmonica-like tones from a slow wheeze into grand orchestral swells before gracefully fading out. In ‘Foothills’ they sound more like strings, sadly rising and falling over a gurgling stream. The drones combine beautifully with the field recordings throughout, making Tents and Hills a compelling document of Hawgood’s recreational and musical pursuits.
Joshua Meggitt
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