Daniel Patrick Quinn Album Reviews

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The Winter Hills (2003)

The Winter Hills (2003)

The Winter Hills / Pathways / Of Things to Come / Pilgrim’s Way / For Her Atoms / Towards the Sun / The Stonecutter / Red Roads / A Coastal Journey

The Winter Hills was written, performed, produced and distributed by 22-year old multi-instrumentalist Daniel Patrick Quinn, who has been kind enough to send me a copy of his debut album. It’s definitely not your average release, and certainly not one that many people will have expected to see on this website (which apparently still has the reputation for being biased towards obscure noise – a misconception I’ll have to set straight). Quinn borrows equally from Eno-styled ambient, minimalism and British folk. This implies that quite often song structure and rigid compositions are denounced in favour of sound texture and atmosphere, and that the songs’ repetitiveness and droning quality become the main points of focus. It’s not that these directions are that remarkable, but in combination with the presence of elements from traditional folk (the use of cello and his vocals stress this the most), The Winter Hills is certainly somewhat of an anomaly in the modern music scene. At the same time, though, this Scottish lad has come up with a surprisingly mature and adventurous album, but he’ll probably never achieve the popularity of other Scotsmen like the people from Teenage Fanclub, Belle & Sebastian and Marillion, but I presume that wasn’t even remotely his goal to start with. Quite remarkable: The Winter Hills is 50 minutes long, but Quinn decided to release it as a 2-CD package, the first CD (four songs) having vocals on them, while the second disc (five songs) is nearly entirely instrumental and more similar to electronic ambient.

The pastoral quality of the title track might very well turn it into my favorite song here. Like the other songs on the first disc, it’s characterised by droning strings and synths, sparse percussion (just a thudding bass drum), while Quinn’s vocals and lyrics provide the fitting music to images of the Scottish Hillside (well, I get my knowledge mainly by reading Ian Rankin’s excellent crime novels and watching sad Scottish movies that are usually set in foggy moors and desolate churchyards where wandering lovers mourn the loss of their loved ones) and even hinted at the barren sense of desolation that infests many of Nick Drake’s songs. Technically speaking, Quinn might not have a great voice (Eno didn’t have one either), but his passionate delivery easily makes up for that. Dreamy synths sounding like the soundtrack to the transformational world between consciousness and unconsciousness introduce “Pathways” that has the most remarkable vocal melody of the first four songs: basically following a descending/ascending pattern, Quinn succeeds in creating a strangely hypnotizing effect further enhanced by the pulsating use of a single cymbal. I didn’t think that “Of Things to Come” nor “Pilgrim’s Way” could uphold the high standard of the two opening tracks, but they do have their merit, whether it’s the Eno-esque vocals of the former or the effectively restrained arrangement of the latter. All together, the first disc is a challenging and rewarding treat that oozes out an enigmatic atmosphere, by grace of the carefully built arrangements and the simple yet affecting lyrics (referring to circles of stones and the sound of church bells in the distance) and melodies.

On the second disc, the focus shifts a bit from folksy stuff to more ambient/electronica, while the strings are replaced by trumpet sounds. At first I didn’t like the sound of the synths during “For Her Atoms” that much (perhaps because it reminded me of a few new wave acts I never got into), but the pulsating percussion, swifter pace and nearly poppy melody turn it into probably the most accessible song on the album. “Towards the Sun” explores more ambient terrain, parts almost altogether with the minimalist variations on a theme, turning to a gradually intensifying structure (and back again). While the short “The Stonecutter” has the least mellow synth sounds and an insistent drone, it’s also the track that – after the entrance of the trumpet - somehow made me think of XTC’s Apple Venus or the krautrock-influenced works of Julian Cope, another artist who, like Quinn, seems to have a weakness for ancient sites and musical ideas. Disc two ends with two lengthy tracks, “Red Roads” and “A Coastal Journey.” One of Quinn’s musical heroes is Jon Hassell, and in its own way, “Red Roads” with its shimmering synth sounds and tribal-like vocals that enter and leave the picture, is reminiscent of Hassell’s involvement with ‘primitive’ music cultures. Finally, album closer “A Coastal Journey” is a 10-minute drone driven by a wailing cello and meandering keyboards that repeatedly sound a lot like Autobahn-era Kraftwerk.

Not all the songs on The Winter Hills are as successful as the title track or “Pathways,” but this album is definitely a rewarding experience, skilfully recorded and performed by a young artist with vision and an ear for synthesis. The fact that no computer or guitar was used during the recording of the album makes it even more remarkable, and that they aren’t missed makes up for his stubborn - yet justified - refusal to use them. Of course The Winter Hills might not be your thing if you’re strictly into post-industrial hardcore or Finnish black metal, but those who are willing to check out this very personal and nicely packaged document are hereby invited to do so, especially if ambient/minimalism is your thing. I’ve said it before, and I say it again: support new music, because it’s often more worthwhile than cleverly promoted artefacts, plus it allows independent labels such as Suilven Recordings to find their own niche.

Note: more information on Daniel Patrick Quinn, his new label, other occupations and plans can be found at his website (http://www.suilvenrecordings.com/), where you can buy this album (and a new hour-long ambient experiment called Jura) at a cheap price.