The garden shed: home to abandoned tools, broken furniture, and the torn remains of festival tents – and now, apparently, a source of musical inspiration too. Dubliner Aaron Page spent two years in the humble surroundings of his shed, writing and clinking away at a whole host of instruments for his début album “The Company of Friends”. Released last October under his Water Cycle moniker, Page has delivered a gorgeously creative and charming début which quietly hints of great potential to come.
In a funny way, this is an album with manners: never too loud or showy, it politely and effortlessly allows the careful detail and diversity of the nine songs on here to shine through themselves. Mixing the guitars and strings of acoustic folk with old-school electric synths and beats, it’s inventive and somewhat experimental, but without ever feeling forced. All in all, it’s eclectic, melodic and atmospheric, making for an interesting and strangely endearing record.
So Bright is a strong opener, a clever introduction to Water Cycle’s overall sound. Soft, swooping guitars join with Page’s deep vocals to create an almost dreamlike quality, before crashing into a lush and layered soundscape. It’s a stunning track that immediately hooks you in, with its successor Good Friends then refusing to let go. A jaunty and instantly catchy little number – all poppy guitars and cheerful trumpets – its upbeat enthusiasm would leave even the most miserable among us smiling. Later on, Sparks is just as infectious: sometimes erratic, sometimes soaring, it’s an unexpected highlight.
Baby Steps is more stripped-back and lo-fi than what’s gone before, but its gentle rhythm and idealistic lyrics (“wouldn’t it just be fantasy to live your dreams every day?) make it a compelling listen. The other more mellow tracks, such as Cutting and Catching Leaves, don’t always fare so well: they’re so laidback that they tend to verge into ‘monotone lullaby’ territory, sitting awkwardly among the other songs. In The Roses is the one other weak point on here: with a cascading piano joined by a scratchy violin, trumpets and some dodgy beats, there’s too many competing and distracting styles to make for a cohesive sound. They’re by no means terrible songs; they just feel slightly out of place given the strength of the rest of the material.
Page chooses the epic, eleven-minute long Avi to close the album. A heavy, heaving rock beginning fades into a rumbling, Brian Eno-esque ending. It’s a strong finish to a strong album, one which shows that Aaron Page is not somebody to shy away from trying out new ideas. A confident and accomplished start for Water Cycle, it will be interesting to see what other musical nuggets he can deliver from his shed in the future.