Opera singer Alice DeVille is XII Sound, a change of pace for the singer-composer that allows her to face her fears head-on. Growing up next to Wimbleton Station, she was comforted by the sounds of the train: the soothing rhythms of clack and conversation. But as an adult, “something changed, and I began to experience an increasing dread of the tube. Something about the very shape of it – the enclosure, the beneath-the-ground feeling, the crush of people – and soon, getting stuck in tunnels even for a few minutes would cause me to break out in a sweat. Every journey became increasingly distressing, and I started to feel panic rising within me every time the doors closed.” Tube V is an attempt to recover her earlier enamorment, to dispel her phobia and make peace with her environment.
There are two ways to listen to the EP: as five separate tracks, or as one 12:40 piece. We prefer the second, reminiscent of a single ride on the Tube. The opening sounds conflict in tone: humanistic announcements and a repeated, robotic voice; then another pairing of dark, cavernous echoes and DeVille’s voice, singing to dispel her fear. In the same manner as the cover distorts the image, these recordings amplify the potentially terrifying facets of the Tube. But “Tube I”s industrial clamor gives way to a more comforting pairing: happy travelers and the passing of the train. This time DeVille sings into the wind that rushes through the chamber, becoming the wind herself.
The steam blasts of “III” arrive like gunshots, a disconcerting interruption. But then the pistons establish a cadence, calming the heart. “IV” is watery and disconcerting, as if the Tube has flooded; still, DeVille’s voice grows more confident, as if she is getting a handle on her fear. As light piano enters, the balance shifts and the mood changes. The water is revealed to be only rain. By the end of “Tube V,” human and environment have merged; all anxiety is dissipated, leaving behind what has always been there: the machine that comforts, the human that receives. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 