When Derek Charke and Eugene Cormier released their nearly-instrumental album Bathymetric Terrains last year, it immediately conjured up visions of subnautical adventures like some grand steampunk interpretation of The Beatles’ Yellow Submarine. While this fantastical version will live on in our dreams, Bathymetric Terrains has been released in a visual format that is, at least, ocean-adjacent.
As an album, Bathymetric Terrains knocked our collective socks off. It was rather unexpected for a concept album largely dependant on the prowess of Cormier’s classical guitar and Charke’s flutework. If you had proposed any combination flute and guitar to us at any time before this album, the alternative of simply throwing ourselves into the ocean might have seemed more exciting. Instead, Bathymetric Terrains proved to be one of our favourite albums of the year.
The newly released 34-minute-long visual rendition of the album, which absolutely yearned for a Zissou-esque deep-sea documentary, took a more pragmatic approach. We’re treating to Charke and Cormier performing alongside the Minas Basin, outside of Wolfville, Nova Scotia, at the edge of the Bay of Fundy. While the world’s highest tides lap along in the background, we gain a more technical appreciation for the album, with Charke chuffing away at an array of hardware as Cormier nonchalantly plucks away.
“For a while now I’ve wanted to compose something about these hidden landscapes,” says Charke. The composition includes multiple flute, guitar, and voice parts. The solo parts are performed live while the backing tracks, processing, and soundscapes are projected through speakers. The work is technically challenging and exciting to perform.”
All of this raises the question as to whether a concept album created with the intention of evoking an elaborate soundscape benefits from any manner of visualization or simply interrupts the illusion. It’s not quite the musical equivalent of the book being better than the movie—it’s interesting for the sake of seeing how these pieces are even physically managed and we are absolutely here for it—but it’s also a reminder of what could have been. A simple Crayon Ponyfish might have made a world of difference.