Experimental at its core but gentle at its ethos, Helen Svoboda‘s Headwater is, at its best, captivating.
Release date: June 26, 2026 | Room40 | Bandcamp | Facebook | Instagram
Few things in music can be so fundamentally bold as creating a musical album centered on a double bass. While we can all feel the power of the low frequencies in our chests and deep in our guts, there’s something in the character of the instrument – a heavy shadow behind its monstrous, slow-moving beauty – that doesn’t charm everyone. One could argue that the double bass requires patience or your desire to be rooted, connected with the earth, ready to absorb every dramatic strike of the bow. Yes, a double bass can be extremely powerful – now imagine if you have two.
The Finnish-born and Australia-based double-bassist/vocalist Helen Svoboda is clearly a daring artist: in a discography that’s not yet a decade old, she has created a very interesting artistic path that consistently explores the qualities and the borders of folk, jazz, free-improv, and contemporary classical music, through her solo work or in projects like Meatshell, Panghalina, and Aura. (And after all, we know first hand she has a good taste!) The expressiveness of her bass and the desire to not act within genre-specific comfort zones seem to be the main constants.
Headwater is structured around two double-basses, two voices, and (a few) electronics, with Helen Svoboda using a small but sonically versatile group of collaborators; despite the sparseness of the instrumentation, she and Jacques Emery (double-bass), Selma Savolainen (vocals), and Tilman Robinson (electronics, production) manage to create a multifaceted album that moves constantly between its folk and experimental sides. Smooth transitions between these two sides maintain a sense of adventure and natural flow across the 16 tracks of the album, bearing in mind that the bowing techniques used in it sound rather close to the world of contemporary classical music.
Some of the tracks that lean on the folky side of things (“Child”) seem to imply a certain amount of Nordic influence that comes from Helen Svoboda’s cultural background. This is mostly sensed throughout the outstanding vocal work which, occasionally, attempts to mimic the natural world (“Ymni”, “When It Rains”, “Pekki”). Sometimes, an ideal balance between vocals and instruments is achieved, especially in wonderful songs like “If” and “Veins”. In these moments, Headwater sounds clear, pure, even accessible.
Elsewhere, the album sounds more exploratory: “Blur” dives into dissonance and atonality, “Two Trees” is a free-improv piece, “Solo” by Emery shows signs of virtuosity and tracks like “Void Of Space” and “Octopus” remain mostly abstract, almost amorphous. A specific type of fluidity (for both the artists and the listeners) seems to be crucial in fully realising this material. The music slips through your fingers, you can’t really grasp it. But it has the power to amaze, especially when it releases its cinematic qualities. For example, it’s hard not to think of Béla Tarr’s masterpieces while listening to “Chords” – and few praises can be higher than that.
When Headwater reaches its climax, with the imposing electronic outbursts of “Hepuli Earworm” bringing the only noticeable percussive elements in its 44 minutes, the cycle is complete: according to Helen Svoboda, this is a work that explores themes of identity and memory while diving into the sonic possibilities of the double-bass, out of pre-determined borders and away from its traditional classical origins. The performances by all musicians are convincing and mature, the production is vivid. And while it’s an album that doesn’t always sound extremely focused, at its best it can be captivating. It may be avant-garde at its core but remains warm and gentle at its ethos. In the end, there’s a good chance you feel more rooted, more connected, maybe even fully absorbed.
Artist photo by Celeste de Clario
