'A Constellation Of Bargained Parts' was written under the heavy shadow of fallow men whose entitlement and wealth have secured them a disproportionate hold on power. Their ascension driven by false promises, corruption, and exploitation, they have worked to turn despair into fury, alienation into hatred, and mistrust into suspicion of those least deserving of it.
These modern lamentations for choir, soloist, and electronics grieve for a modernity that no longer seems possible, as our leaders compel us to look back to an imaginary past to manufacture an illusory future founded on a reinforcement of immutable hierarchies and unchanging interests. They are sung by those of us who can't afford the luxury of doubt; can't afford the time to question and muddy the waters around climate change, inequality, housing, poverty, and ecological collapse. They mourn for futures that have been betrayed.
Even without knowledge of the themes behind A Constellation Of Bargained Parts from Belfast's James Joys with Pete Devlin and the Codetta Choir, this is a piece of music that will haunt you and stalk your mind long after you've listened to it. A doom-laden intro on 'If No One Sings of Remarkable Things' shudders with twangy industrial electronic spikes. Devlin posits; "If no one sings of remarkable things then what is left but fallow men staged across the towns, speaking of hollowed things. If no one sings of wondrous things then all we’ll hear, cutting across the surface, of their gleaming towers, is their sirens' call; their luxuriant whistles, begging us to peel ourselves from one another."
A bleak announcement, bleak because it rings true. The Codetta choir unfurl like a silk curtain falling to the ground in slow motion, it is desperately beautiful and powerful. One of the good things taken from a childhood of mass attendance was the odd occasion when an incredible choir would fill the high ceilings of an old church or cathedral, moving, regardless of age or state of mind.
One of the key elements of this album is also how cinematic it is and gloriously expansive, spreading its magic very far and wide into the unattainable distance. 'The Luxury of Doubt' twinkles cosmically, glittering stars rotating gracefully in the deep expanse of space. When the choir enter at 2:19 with Devlin's vocal it's about as uplifting a moment as I will hear all year, what's really fascinating is how that euphoria sharply drifts into a hint of trouble ahead, optimism replaced by uncertainty, the song's final third is filled with a beautiful fear.
"Good morning, song. Good morning, shelter. I’ll take from you the future, past, and present, and give them to the birds to console the days that pass along straight edges, between the glowing yoke and the gloaming white." 'Shelter Song' is poetry in motion, and we should take a moment to listen to how complimentary Pete Devlin's deep and warm vocal is in tandem with the choir, it feels like they're both fighting the good fight together.
From the calmness of 'Into the Dust' springs forth the album's title-track to close proceedings, that ever so subtle hint at fear and terror that has been brewing since the beginning arrives from over the horizon. The intro could have been used in the bay window scene from Danny Boyle's Sunshine as the ship approaches dangerous proximity to the sun. The danger passes, but there's nothing left now, the Codetta choir sing what feels like a funeral dirge, a lament for the passing of life and brightness, it's just the dark now, and soon it will be engulfed in a terrible silence forever.
