For many artists in Montreal, 2010 was rung in with sadness, not joy. When news of Lhasa de Sela’s passing surfaced, the hope and endless possibilities of a new year faded almost as soon as the last notes of Auld Lang Syne were sung. Over the last 18 months, countless artists have paid tribute and paid their respects to Lhasa’s memory and influence, cementing Longfellow’s idea that “when a great (wo)man dies, for years the light (s)he leaves behind him, lies on the paths of men.”
For Esmerine, percussionist Bruce Cawdron and cellist Beckie Foon’s chamber music project, Lhasa’s passing was more than just the loss of a shining star in the Montreal artistic community. It was the loss of a friend and a collaborator. It was the loss of the connection from Bruce and Beckie to new friends and collaborators, Sarah Page and Andrew Barr (The Barr Brothers). Sadly, it was the inspiration to record again.
Unfortunately, death is an all too common muse and one that sinks many artists. Records turn dark and the composers can’t escape the sadness. I’m reluctant to try to force my experiences into such a personal expression, but La Lechuza, without question, is full of hurt. The quartet documents their grief and anger (you wonder if “Last Waltz” might finally be the hurt that rips your heart to pieces and “Au Crépuscule, Sans Laisse” is just as moving), but the record is more than an expression of loss or some therapeutic, musical Irish Wake. Lhasa’s life – and life in general – is celebrated, and the love these artists shared is evident.
Sonically, La Lechuza is as inspired as the band has sounded. Bruce’s deft mallet work and the emotional charge of Becky’s strings have always been impressive, but adding Page (harp) and Barr (supporting percussion) gives the Esmerine more freedom to explore bigger and bolder arrangements. Coupled with the warm vocal support from Patrick Watson and Page, the band’s range now seems endless. The centerpiece of the record, “Snow Day For Lhasa”, is beautiful and heartfelt, but the dynamic shifts and surges of “Little Streams Make Big Rivers”, the power of the Colin Stetson sax filled opener “A Dog River” and the joyfulness of “Trampolin” demonstrate the possibilities the new lineup offers.
The record closes on a stark and saddening note. Hearing Lhasa’s unmistakable voice backed only by Bruce and Beckie’s respectful instrumentation on an unreleased version of “Fish on Land” is a fitting goodbye. It’s a rare occasion to sit in on an intimate shared moment amongst friends. It’s obvious that Lhasa’s light continues to shine and her spirit lives on, nowhere brighter or warmer than in Esmerine’s heart. La Lechuza is a fitting eulogy to a great friend, and a beautiful experience for anyone that wants to listen.
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MP3:: Esmerine – A Dog River
Esmerine – Walking Through Mist from Constellation Records on Vimeo.
WEB:: http://www.esmerine.com/