Hammock - Nevertheless

A Closer Listen

Nevertheless is a word that Marc Byrd, half of Hammock along with Andrew Thompson, grew accustomed to hearing at funerals in the Deep South. “A loved one is gone.  Nevertheless …”  The word was meant to convey reflection, recalibration, a pause between considerations, as in Selah.

The duo is no stranger to sorrow and loss, which has informed their music for decades.  This makes them well-suited to convey empathy, as they do throughout this recording, dedicated to a friend who lost both a son and a daughter to addiction.  “Requiem for Johan” (the son) begins this journey, which is less one toward recovery than to incorporation; the track title “Like a Sadness We Get Used To” reflects this incorporation, as do Byrd’s words, “We limp on,” which might be seen as a reference to Jacob, who was forever changed by his encounter with a higher power.

The album is also informed by the invisible and ineffable, conveyed in four consecutive titles: “Breath Inside Your Breath,” “Through Nameless Air,” “Without Which Nothing” and “Traces Disappear.”  While such titles seem fitting for ambient music, in this context they imply the soul, the spirit, the residue of a life; but also the breath of life, the Spirit of God; the set is laden with spiritual context.  While Nevertheless is without words, it is packed with connotation.  From the very beginning, the requiem in which choral voices rise to the heavens, it searches for answers; and if no answers are available, at least solace.  The voices and strings of “Requiem for Johan” communicate a difficult message: that beauty often materializes after a loss, crystallizing one’s appreciation of the beauty that has come before.  Over time, the sadness of the loss will battle gratitude for the life, each dominating the other for indefinite periods of time.

The bright chords of “You Get So Far Away” are the first visitations of light, peering around the corners of a darkened room.  Even at a funeral, there is often a little child laughing and scurrying away, a seeming incongruity.  The heaviness rushes back in on the next piece, but just as it is about to overwhelm, the strings reappear like angels of refuge.  The mourner will not bear this alone.  At the end, intimations of waves imply the peaceful shore of “Just a Closer Walk With Thee.”  Then in “Through Nameless Air,” the strings seep through the center of the piece as if they have been there all along, unseen and unnamed.  “Without Which Nothing” may refer to John 1:3, which offers the constancy of grace.

Hammock does not make dissonant music; in their hands, both the presence and the absence are lovely, and filled with love.  Their music asks what emotions are still possible, even in the worst of circumstances, and their findings are hard-earned.  By the title track, the tide of sorrow has begun to recede once more, the possibilities of the title swirling in an ether of notes and chords.  The duo isn’t making music to help others to feel better, but to express empathy.  By tapping into their own deep reservoirs, they are able to express “what we all share in common,” and in so doing, perhaps lighten the load, not only for friends, but for those whom they have never met.  (Richard Allen)