BIBIO UNEARTHS THE MINDSET OF PHANTOM BRICKWORKS (LP II)
Tom Durston interviews Bibio in an attempt to unearth the haunting soundscapes and mindset of Phantom Brickworks (LP II).
As Halloween becomes a distant memory with decorative purple and orange lights making way for a merrier hues of multi-coloured twinkles or a warm white glow, temptation is to reach for something sonic to suit the upcoming season of merriment. Some choose to head down the path trodden into obsidian by listening to the same 30 tracks on Now That’s What I Call Christmas!, others bring out alternative and more classical moments to hearken back to times more nostalgic.
Not for me. The vaguest hint of a lengthening shadow or a snowflake on a 7-day forecast and out comes the all cocooning ambience. One album that found itself absolutely integral to this personal indulgence - and to any situation where a moment of disassociation was necessary - is Bibio’s 'Phantom Brickworks'.
Unfamiliar sonic territory compared to his established catalogue, the album that Stephen James Wilkinson created was engrossing from the off. As someone who hadn’t really dipped into the world of Bibio before, within a few moments it was apparent that it felt significant, like it carried an aura. Needless to say, the announcement some weeks ago that a sequel was due to arrive hit this individual with utmost gravity.
Much like the previous album, Bibio provides a soundtrack for a forgotten Britain. Despite the isles being relatively compact, there are little pockets of forgotten architecture and abandoned infrastructure, once pivotal linchpins of the community that fell between the cracks, existing in the peripheral vision between urban sprawl and new build housing estates.
‘Spider Bridge’ tells the tale of an old footbridge in Kirkintilloch that ran from the Old Works construction site and the railway station, where only a fragment remains after its decommission in 1939, restored as a pat on the back for a job well done. Then two representations compliment: ‘Dinorwic’ is an abandoned Welsh quarry flanked by the glacial lake of ‘Llyn Peris’, the slightly reclaimed steps of man-made landscape carvery sat against the artistry of nature's erosion. While ‘Brograve’ pivots to the Norfolk coast, detailing a brick drainage mill dating back to the 1700’s, dilapidated but defiant.
These industrial ghost stories fascinate on a personal level as someone who often takes a shortcut through the expanse of Hartshead Power Station, whose coal conveyor belt rises out of the woodland vale of Millbrook like a fossilised dinosaur, mostly disregarded on a mundane daily basis as cars thunder between Manchester and Huddersfield. These relics from the not-too-distant past are captivating, not quite fossilised, not quite alive. Some of the appeal possibly comes from an attachment to a structure that lived its life in a time unbothered by concepts such as the internet and social media.
Capturing this sonically is central to 'Phantom Brickworks (LP II)' and this is where Bibio taps into all his folky acumen. Painting the canvas are pianos that sound like they’re sourced from the corner of a sleepy village hall, a siren's song that sings somewhere in the mist, lost conversations frozen in time, and melodies that sit somewhere between the peal of church bells or the rhythmic tap of melting icicles.
The music loops, locking with your thoughts, carrying a mixture of conflicting emotions: sadness, loss, nostalgia, hope. There is an added element of bleakness with this collection when compared to its predecessor, perhaps a reflection of tumultuous years prior. However bleakness does not mean the absence of beauty, and Phantom Brickworks (LP II) always carries itself with poise and grace.
To celebrate the release of Phantom Brickworks (LP II), Tom Durston took the opportunity to interview Bibio in an attempt to unearth the haunting soundscapes and mindset of the project.
Hello Stephen, thank you for taking the time to speak. Over the past 15 years of running Inverted Audio your music has become a close companion to me and I have been eager to interview you for quite some time! Personal highlights include Ambivalence Avenue, The Green EP, Mind Bokeh and of course Phantom Brickworks. We’re here to talk about your long-awaited follow up Phantom Brickworks (LP II). How do you feel about finally unleashing this album to the world?
It always feels good to release an album, it’s the point of no return, it’s drawing a line under it. When an album goes public it can be nerve racking as this thing that you’ve been precious about up until now has been private, and now it’s out in the open - it’s a bit like coming out of hibernation.
The period leading up to and around releasing an album is the most stressful part, it’s where most of the emailing and admin stuff kicks in, and having to keep on top of conversations with lots of different people at the label etc. It takes up a lot of time and headspace - I’m no longer in my own world during those times, but I’m not complaining, I’m still living my dream and it’s a necessary part of the process if I want my music to be heard, which I most definitely do.
I feel good knowing that people are going to get to hear what I’ve been working on, allowing people to explore my world a bit. The music made by other people has made my life rich and interesting, so I like to think I can contribute something of that nature myself.
At the time of writing, Autumn is in full effect in the UK (if not slightly over). It is of course no coincidence that Phantom Brickworks is being released during the fall - it provides an idyllic soundscape for wandering through the fallen canopy of leaves speckled across the floor. Are all of your productions inherently seasonal?
I definitely get inspired differently when autumn comes, but my music making happens continuously. All of the seasons inspire me, during the dark months there’s an excitement and longing for spring as well as taking the time to admire the beauty in bleakness, then when spring arrives I want to capture that and include it in my art. The same goes for darker seasons too, which are inherently melancholy. Autumn certainly feels like a good time to release Phantom Brickworks (LP II), but it can be made at any time.
Phantom Brickworks is a hauntingly textural ambient project that navigates a plethora of emotions - the music is fragile, melancholic and ultimately quite sad. What do you feel and envision when producing and listening back to Phantom Brickworks?
I often envision landscapes and places, so it makes a suitable soundtrack for exploring certain environments, whether that’s in real life or just in my head. If I can conjure up different emotions with music with potency, then I feel like I’ve achieved something.
Emotions are such strange and complex things, and melody/harmony is a language of emotion. We often reduce emotions to primary colours when talking about life, but music can awaken all sorts of complex and nuanced emotions that are indescribably, and that’s a really strange thing for the human being to have evolved with, it’s like our brains tap into some deep and mysterious feature of the universe through music, and although we might think of music as a human invention, it’s more like a discovery.
We didn’t get to choose that a sad chord sounds sad, but as musicians we can choose which emotional colours to paint with. In some ways it feels like music is the most detailed description of emotion we have.