When we arrived back in New York, exhausted after a six-week-long trip through nearly all American states and some fair parts of Canada in a van, we were invited to stay with friends of friends in a New York suburb. Going there was just the right thing for our worn-out minds and bodies – the family we stayed with were the most kind, interesting and hospitable people, and the suburb’s tranquility was a welcome treat. But the greatest thing was meeting Sam and his music.
Sitting there in his attic room, amongst myriads of instruments and equipment, I already imagined myself giving out forced compliments. After all, the chances that this was going to be shit are significantly higher than the possibility of finding something extraördinary. But extraördinary it is!
Sam comes from a musical family (his mother is a composer, his father a violin maker), he and his brother both studied music. There is an immense density in his songs, you just know that he spends hours editing his music. There seems to be more thought in one of his songs than what you would otherwise expect in a whole album, and it takes a few listens to appreciate every nuance of it. The way he works with sound is remarkable, his carefully manipulated recordings pull you in and out of moods, make your mind jump from one image to the next while you listen through his meticulously composed songs, all the instruments for which he plays himself. You’ll want a good stereo to really enjoy this stuff.
He was working on a new album when I left him, and planned to release it under the name Sam Bay. I can’t wait; the new songs he showed me make me desperate for more. In the meantime, I strongly suggest listening to his remarkable album Serkus from 2007.
Haggis 