For some artists, the songwriting muse visits through acts of conscious collaboration. For Leif Vollebekk, the solitude of the Covid-19 pandemic crafted a link between artist and subconscious. A few inner conversations with philosophers and scientists helped too.
"When I read about Isaac Newton's life, I discovered that this man of science secretly practiced alchemy in his own laboratory and looked for signs of the apocalypse," Vollebekk shared in press materials surrounding Revelation, his follow-up to 2019's New Ways. "The more I read, the more otherworldly all these great scientists were. Dmitri Mendeleev said his breakthrough for the arrangement of the elements came to him in a dream."
A multi-instrumental, Juno and Polaris prize shortlisted artist, it didn't take long for Vollebekk to compare this creative process to musicianship. "Is it really that different from Paul McCartney hearing 'Yesterday' in a dream?" he pondered.
Somewhere in the time of solitude Vollebekk described as "basically two years of retirement," Revelation began to manifest. A time of creative productivity, one that he embraced after over a decade of creating records and touring, Vollebekk welcomed the silence by building his own recording studio, tending to his garden and spending time with companions found in books, records and dreams.
The uncanny creative process might lead some musicians down a path of cerebral and obtuse creative output. But Vollebekk's latest album features the same familiarities that earned him accolades on New Ways, 2017's Twin Solitude and his 2010 debut, Inland. Cozy vocals and a driving piano ground each song in Vollebekk's signature folk style, while relatable and at times simplistic lyricism brings accessibility to music that came to Vollebekk through a process of complexity.
The album's opening track, "Rock and Roll" hints at the inter-textual inspiration that repeats throughout the album. The song came to Vollebekk in a dream that featured the late American singer-songwriter Jeff Buckley. A tragic accident took the life of the 30-year-old Buckley in 1997, when he drowned while swimming in the Mississippi river. Fully clothed, Buckley entered the turbulent and unpredictable waters, backstroking while singing the chorus to Led Zeppelin's "Whole Lotta Love." Fellow musician Keith Foti watched in horror as a passing boat created a surge of water that rolled towards the shoreline, submerging Buckley. His body was found a few days later in a tangle of branches, floating on the Wolf River.
The lyrics on "Rock and Roll" echo Buckley's death: "In the water of a sacred place / See your reflection yeah, I see your face / And I know that all will be erased if I touch it" Vollebekk sings. "I'm on a boat and I'm right at sea / There's no captain but maybe, the captain is me / And you've got your hand laying on my knee / And then I wake up." The dream-like scenario is emblematic of themes that continue on the album, in which Vollebekk is in direct and indirect conversation with musical and creative men of both the past and present. On "Rock and Roll," it's unclear whether Vollebekk is the creator, or simply the conduit of a force greater than himself. The influence of Buckley's musical talent and the curious circumstances surrounding his death are both present, cultivating a sensation where there are no boundaries between our dream state and awakened consciousness. Vollebekk is master of both realms, seamlessly integrating inspiration and collaboration with artists both dead and alive.
Echoes of country influence are present on the album's second track, "Southern Star," which feature a wistful pedal steel and plucky guitar strings. Still, the ever-present piano and intimate lyricism give the song a feel that is distinctly Vollebekk. On the track, he unfurls a conversation with a secondary presence, one that he longs to be intimate with. "And I climb that northwest passage / I look the master in the eye / When I am confused and confounded / I search for you in the sky" Vollebekk calls, striking up a conversation with the stars themselves that serves as a stand-in for a personal relationship. In a subdued chorus, Vollebekk ponders higher themes, the omnipresent philosopher. "Faith in the morning after / Wait for the time to come / Say that love won't come easy, just know who you are / Baby you're my southern star" are backed by American singer-songwriter Anaïs Mitchell's melting vocal harmonies.
Towards the middle of the record, recurrent themes of water begin to unravel. Ambient waves usher in album highlight "Surfer's Journal," the most autobiographical for Vollebekk, who walks through each movement required when successfully surfing the turbulent waves. "Stood up too fast / Drop and move / Switch the back foot now curve up into / Then the lip hits me, I'm down and I'm under and I'm caught inside / It's not my time to ride" he coos. The song moves from literal to figurative as Vollebekk explores the inner workings of his own consciousness, echoing the self-reflection that comes from activities that bring one closer in step with nature. Piano keys drive a rising crescendo that unravels throughout the track's near six-minute runtime. Vollebekk brings the analogy together with a drum beat that connects the experience with his intimate relationships. "Energy downwards and I'm crouching / Energy downwards as I ride the waves / Energy downwards and I'm flying / Energy downwards whenever you're close to me / You're nose to nose to me / Everything flows to me / I've got blood in my clothes for thee" he sings, speaking less to himself and more to a present, yet still absent, other. The song is an outline of how the physicality of an act like surfing can connect one with the body's most basic functions.
Disparate percussion and country-twang guitars are also featured on Revelation's seventh entry, "Elijah Rose." Speaking to the seven-year-old Elijah, the song explores strained father-son relationships and the steps necessary to begin healing these wounds. On the near eight-and-a-half minute long "Sunset Boulevard Expedition," themes of reflection and intuition are repeated. In these entries, the album becomes mantra-like; it's unclear if Vollbekk's vocal phrasing is storytelling or manifesting as a form of self-meditation. Within this meditation, the ocean, waves and water are constant forces that act as conduits for deep self-reflection. "Sometimes I go down to the ocean / Sometimes it comes to me / Sometimes I cross the sea" sings Vollebekk. Through his relationship with nature, we see visions of Vollebekk watching the constellations, playing his music to sold-out shows, and conjuring spirits of great minds of the past. This contemplation is at the heart of Revelation, an album that serves as a kind of magnum opus for Vollebekk.
"The world is now so dreamlike / My dreams are now so lifelike / Tell me now what does it seem like / There's no surer path to madness / Oh baby, if you had this / You'd realize that I might be the butterfly / Dreaming of the man who wrote this" Vollebekk contemplates through spoken word, backed by a distant harp at the end of "Sunset Boulevard Expedition." The image shimmers, a mirage in crystal clear water that sparkles before it disappears in a crash of waves. It's in these images that Vollebekk's subconscious is both amplified and reconstructed.