[Tectonic]

Listening to Jack Sparrow’s Circadian album, I realized I didn’t know what “circadian” actually meant. Obviously I was familiar with circadian rhythms, but I had never considered the origins of the term. The word itself is a 20th century invention, comprised of the Latin “circa” and “diem,” or “around a day.” I wanted to figure out what correlation Jack Sparrow was attempting to reference when giving his debut album for Tectonic this name. Rhythm seems like the obvious choice, but there is something else to think about. The timeless quality that a perpetual day cycle achieves, the rising and falling and repeating of hours in a day. The sun rises and sets everyday, without deviation, almost as if we are treading water in time itself. With the ever-changing face of electronic and dance music, how does an artist create music that has the potential to always remain current? By reaching inside for the most pure and natural expression of sound that is universal to everyone. At its heart, that’s what Circadian strives for.

The steady pulse of “Loveless” provides the first primal sounds of the set: the heartbeat, part of the womb-like surroundings created by blurry voices and soothing sonics (referencing My Bloody Valentine is never a bad move either). “Dread,” a collaboration with Ruckspin, kicks things into overdrive with an amped up cacophony of percussion that pushes his tribal underpinnings. These first two tracks play with the dual nature of the album, sometimes intense and overwhelming, other times acting like a vast tableau the listener is enfolded in. Tracks like “The Chase VIP” and “Terminal” are pounding dance floor killers while “Shoal” floats in the middle of the album like a primeval hymn, with gentle plucking, deep and textured bass, and dubbed-out drums cascading over its five minute length.

Following this epic up is “Subterranean,” a track that recalls Kryptic Minds dubstep explorations on their One of Us album. Featuring vocals by Indi Kaur, the low-end is a heavy flow of ancient lava, and synths twist back and forth alternating between enhancing and drowning the ghostly voices. While some tracks push for the high octane feel of modern dubstep, it’s tracks like these two and the minimal “Dune” that feel most in tune with the lauded early days of mysterious and dark vibes. Yet they feel timeless rather than dated. On many of Circadian‘s eleven tracks, there is a subtle Eastern influence, not only centerpiece “Shoal” but in the complicated stick percussion of “Relapse.” Its companion piece, “Regress,” uses many of the same percussive elements, a dynamic bed of synths washes the drums and makes the electronic flourishes feel alive, moving relentlessly towards the closing “Exit.” With this last composition, Jack Sparrow throws out any adherence to bass weight and club machinations for a beautiful ambient piece that gently ushers the album to its inevitable rewind. In fact, the very last sound you hear is what sounds like a tape deck stopping or getting ready to flip. The Circadian cycle begins again and a new day emerges.