Porcelain

Fohn conjures a dreamlike landscape of introspective beauty, loneliness and transience from analogue tape and field recordings on new album, Porcelain.

A late summer evening in southern France. The dry mistral wind billows the washing that hangs outside the windows on narrow streets, bringing with it the first whispers of autumn. In the distance children are playing in the square, their shouts caught in the dust whipped up by their feet. A bell tolls, the light dies, and a rich, compelling solitude descends.

Violinist and multi-instrumentalist Fohn, aka Tom Connolly, describes the act of making music as “building fictional environments that become places of solace,” and a process of translation and projection that bridges his internal and external worlds.

While musicians like John Also Bennett, Oren Ambarchi and Connolly’s own group Quade drift behind his sound, Porcelain draws its temperamental inspiration from films like Call Be My Your Name and Andrei Tarkovsky’s The Mirror, as well as the sculptures of Anthony Gormley, whose solitary figures stand isolated in expanses of water along the UK coastline.

How does Connolly describe the atmosphere he wants the music to evoke? “It's the feeling of the inevitability of something having to pass,” he answers. “It's compelling because it's fundamentally unattainable. You're searching and grasping for something that you can never fully hold.”

A moving, intimate and deeply personal album, Porcelain shimmers in the illusive light of melancholy. For Connolly it provided the release of catharsis, but it’s a feeling that will mean something different to everyone who listens.

A1.         1.             Blunt Edge

A2.         2.             Before The Infidel

A3.         3.             Sanctuary In Waiting

A4.         4.             Like A Mirror

A5.          5.             False Dawn

B1.          6.             Hagstone Lullaby

B2.          7.             At Moot Point

B3.          8.             Prove Fruitful

B4.          9.             In Shadows Of Regret