Often, when discussing the merits of lo-fi recording, there is an emphasis on how the sound is made beautiful by restriction. Either there is a sense of immediacy (time restriction) or a sense of triumph despite limitations (the underdog effect). The music can often feel trapped in a moment or a format, and cherished all the more for it’s shortcomings.
In the case of Broken Deer’s Polaraura, a decidedly lo-fi affair, the effect of using cheap technology has resulted in something altogether different. Instead of feeling trapped, Lindsay Dobbin’s work here feels incredibly expansive and all-considering. Recorded while living in a cabin outside of Whitehorse, Polaraura contains compositions for piano, guitar and voice, as well as a smattering of field recordings. It’s an awe-inspiring piece that gives the effect of a small prism refracting a large plateau.
Though split into five tracks, the entire 35 minutes is a fluid, heavily immersive, cohesive experience. The sound of howling wolves and wind meld seamlessly with analogue tape scrubbing. Dobbin’s haunting folk songs wander in and out of the soundscape much the way a figure appears briefly in a white-out snowstorm; not lost but journeying. Her voice is hard to place, it may be that of a curious young girl or a wizened, elderly woman. And, as any seasoned explorer will tell you, both wisdom and curiosity are essential to a successful journey.
Polaraura is a rewarding, trance-inducing listen for the willing, to be approached with an open and patient mind. There is a great sense of surety throughout the album’s meanderings that Dobbin has made available through limited means, loving care and consideration. It is a deep record with no bottom in sight, ripe for plunging into.
