Source: Bandcamp Daily.
In Graham Lambkin’s world, the sound of water is like a melody that everybody knows by heart. “It’s such a relatable sound,” he says during our email conversation, when asked why so much of his deeply experimental tape collage work over the last two decades has so prominently featured the sound of water running, splashing, and dripping. “It’s variable, textural, dynamic, atmospheric, and it can hold otherwise disparate sounds together and give them a sense of cohesion,” he says. “However abstract the work is, water provides a familiar grounding to anchor the listener’s attention.” When you consider Lambkin’s penchant for stitching together cryptic, unrecognizable, even frightening sonic environments out of completely ordinary noises (crunching pinecones, swaying wind chimes, a person snoring), it makes sense why the soothing tone of water would strike a welcoming chord.