Bristol's Tara Clerkin Band once had eight members, until five of them “dropped out”, leaving the Clerkin namesake and brothers Sunny-Joe Paradiso and Patrick Benjamin as the Tara Clerkin Trio. Listening to the trio's instrumental puzzles, it's hard to imagine where you'd fit five more tracks: This is slow, airy music that's nonetheless bursting with life, the jazz-folk equivalent of a Kelly Reichardt film. Their new EP, At the turning point, traverses pleasantly psychedelic and weathered breakbeats, harpsichord interludes and dobby ballads. Each new idea feels like a natural progression, as if you've slowly wandered deeper into a verdant haven.
The Tara Clerkin Trio's self-titled 2020 debut was elegant, carefree city music: The sinister gem “I Know He Will” felt like a live recording in a jazz club that shared a thin wall with a takeout kitchen. Throughout the record, disparate sounds tangled and intertwined, capturing the sense of beauty. At the turning point is clearly still inspired by Bristol – the opening track is called “Brigstow”, an older form of the city's name, and “The Turning Ground” is driven by the kind of breakbeat usually found in his famous d'n'b clubs – but It's also broader, using synthetic sounds to mimic the slowness and stillness of the natural world. The Paradiso snares on “Brigstow” sound like leaves crunching underfoot. cello stabs and melodies are like distant bird calls. On “World in Delay,” the tremulous production mirrors Clerkin's lyrics, which see the botanical renewal as a sign of hope: “Only flowers on the tree/A remedy/Waiting for the new copy/Does it feel almost real ?”
Clerkin's words tend toward abstraction, but certain patterns recur. In “The Turning Ground”, he again seems to find solace in the passing seasons (“I'm new again”). in “Marble Walls” he sings to find solace in the sounds of a church choir. Clerkin has a sweet, hard-to-pin-down voice: She's prone to slow, steady syllables like a less urbane Anna Domino, and she sometimes sings with a Trish Keenan-like singsong quality.
Above all, Clerkin's voice is an essential textural element. despite its cold production, At the turning point it feels deeply hopeful, and Clerkin's high, sonorous voice, when heard, feels like spring blooming between patches of frost. But even in his rarest moments, At the turning point it seems to beckon to a universe that is constantly growing and expanding, even when things may seem static. On closer “Once Around,” a loop of Clerkin's guitar is slowly surrounded by more and more echo, with such subtlety that at first you might not even notice it. Eventually, washes of synth spread underneath and the cello and harpsichord eventually occupy the guitar entirely. It's the most melancholic song on the EP, and the most beautiful — gradual change and renewal, happening before your ears.