PLAYSCAPES: Soundtrack for a Quiet Revolution
- Septimus
- Aug 12, 2024
- 2 min read
A train station at dawn. The platform is empty. Fog hugs the ground, rolling in waves as if the earth is exhaling. A single pigeon coos, perched on a rusted bench. The old clock on the wall ticks softly, its hands moving with the certainty of time. In the distance, the faint rumble of a train approaching. The sound of footsteps echoes briefly, then fades into the mist.
Tuulikki Bartosik composes with a touch that feels both familiar and strange, like the quiet revolution of that ticking clock. Her music, a fusion of folk roots and experimental edges, creates a sonic world where the past and future coexist, neither dominating the other. Born in Estonia and now calling Sweden home, Bartosik crafts her pieces with the precision of a watchmaker, each gear and spring in perfect harmony.
What Makes Playscapes Unique
Global Echoes: Bartosik’s Playscapes is a journey without a map. The album captures the essence of her travels across the Baltic Sea, weaving in sounds from Estonia, Sweden, and beyond. "Reval: Pettäsaamislugu" is a standout, with its traditional instruments blending into a modern soundscape.
Accordion, Reinvented: This isn’t the accordion you hear in smoky Parisian bars. Bartosik pulls it into the 21st century, using pedals and synths to create layers that rise and fall like the tide. Tracks like "Stockholm" reveal the accordion’s untapped potential, mixing electronic beats with organic tones.
Cinematic Moments: Each track on Playscapes could be the score to a film that hasn’t been made yet. "Helsinki" is a prime example, with its haunting melody that feels like a memory just out of reach. This is music that unfolds slowly, inviting you to sit with it, to let it linger.
Fluid Compositions: From the expansive "繋がりTsunagari" to the fleeting "Helsinki," Bartosik’s compositions don’t settle—they evolve. The music flows like a river, meandering but never lost, always moving toward something just around the bend.
The train arrives. Its brakes hiss as it comes to a stop. Doors slide open with a soft whoosh. No one steps out, but the pigeon flutters away, disturbed by the sudden presence of the train. The fog begins to lift, revealing more of the station—cracked tiles, a forgotten newspaper, the glint of sunlight on steel rails. The clock ticks on.
Comments