The Songs Tell a Story: Reviewing We Lost The Sea's "Departure Songs"

We Lost The Sea

Our experiences on earth are full of life-changing events that carve themselves indelibly into our psyche - the death of JFK, 9/11, etc.  Most of us can remember where we were and what we were doing at the time they happened.

On January 28, 1986, I walked into my Social Studies class at Casa Grande Union High School in my hometown in Arizona to learn that the space shuttle Challenger had exploded in midair, a little more than a minute after takeoff, killing all seven people on board.  Everyone reacted with a sense of shock at the sudden loss of life, broadcast on international TV for all to see.  I didn't see the footage until I went home that night, but many kids in my school were watching it live on TV.  The whole nation mourned the loss of these astronauts, and it seemed as if the space program was never the same after this.

Now, the Australian prog rock band, We Lost The Sea, has commemorated the Challenger and other ill-fated journeys on a sprawling third album called "Departure Songs".  We Lost The Sea describe themselves as a six-piece, instrumental, progressive post-rock band.  If you think that's a mouthful, wait until you check out this album.  It's a sprawling. ambitious opus with epic soundscapes and languorous explorations of texture and atmosphere that tell grandiose stories.  One of the songs on here is almost 24 minutes long!  And yet it all works.  Their website states that this album "is inspired by failed, yet epic and honourable journeys throughout history where people have done extraordinary things for the greater good of those around them, and the progress of the human race itself.  Each song has its own story and is a soundtrack to that story."

The first story on this this album is "A Gallant Gentleman", which is the shortest track on here.  It starts our softly, two guitars creating a dull thrum, like gentle wakes licking the banks of a lake shore.  Then  the layers descend like pollen, a piano, the wordless voices of a choir, and drums.  The song builds up, but never too intensely.  The next story is about "Bogatyri" who are knights in epic Russian poetry.  The song starts out with watery guitars, light shining and shimmering on the surface, and then taking a while to build up to a fierce gallop across the grassy steppes.  These songs really do tell stories.  "The Last Dive of David Shaw" starts out with liquid sounds, garbled radio transmissions, and the forced gasps of a rebreather, and the whole songs sounds muffled and muted, as if all under water.  It tells the story of Australian diver, David Shaw, known for extremely deep diving excursions.  In 2005, he lost his life trying to recover a dead body from the depths of Bushman's Hole.  "Challenger Part 1 - Flight" starts with ambient noise with excerpts from beat poet William S. Burroughs where he speaks of the biological necessity of dreams, perhaps to prepare us for space.  The song takes us through several movements, and then tightens in intensity as the countdown draws to a close and dissolves into monumental chaos as the explosion occurs and we hear unintelligible transmissions and sounds of mourning.

After the destruction of Challenger, in light of the tragedy, President Ronald Reagan cancelled his State of the Union address in favor of a speech offering condolences to the families of the astronauts, and this speech is sampled in the final track, "Challenger Part 2 - A Swan Song", a song that conveys mourning, hope, and recovery.

There is no doubt that We Lost the Sea are musical geniuses to eschew lyrics in favor of storytelling using only musical threads to weave a tapestry.  This album is perfect for playing in the background.  I used it while I write, and I play it while I am going to sleep.  There are no songs with a conventional structure, and I won't be adding any of these lengthy songs to any of my mixes.  But as a whole, as a concept album, this is a very satisfying listen.  I'm glad I have discovered it.  The songs give life to our memories and our narrative.