The gorgeous ocean blue vinyl is an invitation to dive deep into these waters. But Colleen‘s new album is more than just an ode to the ocean; it is a celebration of swimming, of recovering, of leaving the shore, the safety, the trauma, the past behind.
The story is literal as well as metaphorical. Colleen (Cécile Schott) loved the beach as a child, but as an adult she developed a water phobia that kept her out of the sea for over 30 years. Finally confronting her fears, she hired an open water teacher and learned to swim again. But there are other lessons to be learned here as well: the importance of taking a first step, the desire to leave fear behind, the plunge into the great unknown. After the first few strokes, it becomes easier; after the first few weeks, it becomes a habit; eventually the sea becomes part of the being, the being part of the sea. The tracks chronicle this journey, while personifying this transformation: the ebb, the flow, the peak, the trough, the dive, the stroke, the peace. Look closely at the cover: there lies the swimmer, no shore in sight.
Colleen calls opening track “Mis armas se habían caído al suelo” (My weapons had fallen to the floor)” a “declaration of vulnerability.” This brief ambient piece is tender, exposed, ending in the rush of a wave: a frightening sound to one so long afraid. But then “Puertas de mi cuerpo” (“Gates of my body”) takes that first step. The synth is active, pulsating, multi-layered, a stand-in for the sea. There’s a warmth here, an embrace that becomes apparent once the patterns become more predictable – although like the waves, they are never fully predictable. New patterns emerge as stereo effects are emphasized, imitating the movement of the Mediterranean.
The high-pitched notes of “Antidoto” come as a surprise, quickly balanced by the lower register, like the sun sparkling on the waves offset by the underwater muting of sound. The swimmer is now in the water. As Pablo Neruda writes, “I need the sea because it teaches me / I don’t know if it’s music or awareness … my life changed suddenly / as I became part of its pure movement.” One suspects that Colleen is now experiencing a similar revelation; far more than a habit has been restored. In “Aguas abiertas” (“Open waters”), the swimmer leaves the shore behind, heading past the breakers and out to sea. Vulnerability remains, but is offset by trust. As the album’s longest track, “Aguas abiertas” best recreates the swimmer’s trance: a suspension of worry, a oneness with the water.
The title track is sedate at the start, excited at the end, a microcosm of Colleen’s experience. One realizes that the artist has not taken only one plunge into the ocean, but many. While turbulence may surround her, her heart remains calm, because inside it is the sea. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 