Sunken Cathedral is a work of three distinct layers: the legend of Ys, the composition of Debussy, and the imagination of Ryan Jobes. On this tape, the three intertwine to form a pleasing whole.
In the legend of Ys, a sunken cathedral rises from the sea. Its organ and bells can be heard for miles around. But the music is short-lived; sinking again into the ocean, it waits again for another pristine day. One imagines the bells beneath the ocean, ringing still.
Debussy’s prelude “La cathédrale engloutie” mirrors the legend through impressionism: quiet piano tones slowly emerge from a muffled stupor, developing into flourishes of bright chords. All too soon, the ivories fade, leaving listeners with a scant yet precious memory.
Ryan Jobes, along with Evelyn Davis and Kimberley Sutton, mimics Debussy’s construction without copying his notes. Filtered tones slowly rise, achieving distinction. Guitar and cello notes swirl and coalesce. And here, unlike in Debussy’s work, we hear the pipe organ, swelling still as it rises from the sea. Dissonant strums feature strongly in Part 1, a haunted symbol of theological displacement. Woken from slumber, the cathedral ghosts struggle to relearn their music. As the drones take shape, they honor Debussy’s chords, which in turn were meant to suggest the chanting of medieval monks. Off into silence the first part goes ~ time to flip the cassette.
Side B is where the real drama hides. It may be only coincidence that the first part is streaming online, while the second is hidden on the tape like a cathedral under the sea. Organ tones swiftly stream forth, joyous in their liberation from the sluggish tide. After streaming, they surge, reaching toward the heavens, reverberating with hope like a short-lived insect that hatches only to mate and fall. But this is no Tower of Babel; instead, it’s an expression of joie de vivre. Drone it may be, but real instruments are hidden in the drone, echoing through the currents, waiting for their opportunity to rise. And then, finally, we hear the bells of Ys: deliberate, holy, pure. The people of Ys will never get to the island in time to touch it, but its sounds will touch their hearts. It’s the sound of faith lost, and found, and lost again.
The locals are growing old.
Only they always come to the seaside in the evening
to listen to the sound of bells from the sea,
listen to that church at the bottom of the sea ….
And the sea curls and tumbles beyond these few acres.
(Lu De’an, “November’s Guide”, translated by Yanbing Chen, from the anthology Fissures)
Richard Allen
a closer listen 