Summer is ending. We must not say this out loud; it is a hard pill to swallow. For many people, summer has already ended; vacations are over, classes have begun, the water has cooled. zakè‘s Tide Requiem for the Low Sea is a long, slow, poignant goodbye, holding on until the very last moment, like the last bit of a small island before it is submerged.
The physical representation is gorgeous: a double-sided picture disc, suitable for framing, showcasing photography by Tom Meluch (Benoît Pioulard). The images inspired both the music and their titles. One can imagine clinging to one of these peaks, like Blake Lively in “The Shallows,” albeit with more sadness than drama.
Each side contains a single track, logging in at 22:46. The title track occupies Side A, ebbing in and out like the tide. Precious piano notes float atop the layered, undulating drones. Time seems be in suspension, although this is an illusion; it is simply passing slowly and inexorably from summer to autumn. Larger chords pass like behemoths in the sea, never quite surfacing, as much a feeling as they are a presence. How long can one hold on before succumbing to the sea? The answer should be six hours, the distance between high and low tides, and while we are not requesting a six-hour recording, it would be interesting to experience. A quarter-day at the beach allows for nuance, for incremental change that eventually grows extreme. “Tide Requiem for the Low Sea” seems to reflect the ocean at its lowest, before the rising tide, when one is aware that time is limited.
The complementary “Crimson Covenant” is like a different viewpoint of a similar scene or like two persons comparing notes. Is the tide advancing or receding, and is the glass half full or half empty? If there is value to be found in each, might it also be applied to the changing seasons? The chords are darker, as one might expect from the title, which (likely coincidentally) is shared with an RPG. They advance and recede more swiftly, like the reduced interval between waves.
The organ-like tones contribute elegance and gravity. Funeral offers music as a bridge between worlds; this piece suggests a similar metaphor. One of the unique curiosities of the record (as opposed to the download) is that the needle grows ever closer to an island peak, beginning at the outskirts as it alternately treads water and rests on land. The implication is that even the needle is seeking safety from the tide, and eventually finds it. The same may be true for the listener, leaving the seas of summer and landing safely on the shores of fall. (Richard Allen)
a closer listen 