Vancouver Sleep Clinic – Winter EP
Self-released: 2014
Snow-traced, leafless branches and dark shadows juxtaposed against blankets of white snow characterize Winter; season-specific elements evoke moods, emotions and thoughts in a time of year that is both isolating and liberating. Cold-fronts and life-halting blizzards collide with airs’ crisp, clean chill and the warmth of a family-bonding fire. Hot chocolate and additional blankets—themselves rather meaningless aspects of life—assume a nostalgic importance in our memory.
From special perspectives—through the window of a high-flying plane, or the peaks of a skier-occupied mountain—winter is expansive and all-encompassing; an undeniable energy, one often tapped by creatives who use external conditions to drive the expression and discovery of internal forces.
Australian act Vancouver Sleep Clinic does just that, soaring above a storm of inevitable comparisons to the likes of other progressive folk acts—Bon Iver, or James Vincent McMorrow. Clinic, or Tim Bettinson, creates a paradoxical blend of minimalism and excessiveness, a distinctive trait that separates his anticipated EP, appropriately titled Winter, from the works of other artists aforementioned.
Drums are pushed deep into the background of Winter; soft shakers and stuttering hi-hats align with softer kicks and light atmospheric pads on “Collapse”, and hardly audible percussion pulses under the burying weight of strings and synthesized horns on “Stakes”. The drums, which double as a traditional measure of tempo, work to loosely guide Bettinson along an icy path without detracting from the scenic route’s main spectacle: voice.
Save for a brief tonal duet on the gargantuan “Stakes”, the six-song project largely floats atop Bettinson’s wispy falsetto. His lyrics, however, seldom stray too long above the surface: The young artist carries in his reverb-doused voice a remarkable view of his world – one paired with a willingness to dive into his own depths.
Distant lands are romantically considered on “Vapour”: “What a moment, encountering the dawn / Breathing in the air I’ve never known,” and, “This ship was only ever built to fall apart / The oceans that we couldn’t cross / The London Bridge is caving in, cities melt into my skin.”
Only a teenager, Bettinson’s uncanny command of language and sound plays a trick of sorts on the passive listener. A name like “Vancouver Sleep Clinic” suggests what its creator himself had previously professed: music that’s easy to fall asleep to. Admittedly, the soft sound of Winter does allow for fading off into your own world quite easily. Underneath the pretty aesthetics and faultless falsetto, however, lies a treasure trove of insight, curiosity and reflection. Transcribe a Clinic song, and you’ll find yourself poring over seemingly simple couplets, attempting to unlock the meaning of it all.
Winter is the child of fundamental experimentalism. More importantly, it’s the brainchild of Tim Bettinson, who possesses the vision and descriptive knack of an overlooking scry. As one of the longest snowy seasons in recent memory enters its final act on the east coast, a burgeoning music career begins to sprout through the frosted ground.
4 out of 5
You can buy Winter on iTunes.