Annie Hamilton shares new singles ‘again’ and ‘every door in my house is slamming together’


Before the release of his long-awaited debut album, the future is here but it looks a bit like the past, on May 20 on [PIAS]Eora/Sydney-based adored musician, visual artist and designer Annie Hamilton today unveiled two more songs from the feature film: “Again” and “All The Doors Inside My Home Are Slamming Into One Another”.

Released alongside a self-directed music video, “All The Doors Inside My Home Are Slamming Into One Another” is a tender moment of reflection, remorse, regret and acknowledgment of truths we too often don’t want. confess to us.

Written during the Australian bushfire season and co-produced by Jake Webb (Methyl Ethel) with Luke Davidson (The Preatures) on drums, ‘All The Doors…’ is a sprawling soundscape of piano, synths and guitars, a shimmering musical constellation that ignites in a sudden burst of emotional clarity (“I don’t love you anymore”), the first merciful rays of day after the tumultuous uncertainty of night.

“A lot of lyrical ideas for this song were floating around in my head during the bushfire season,” says Hamiton. “The wild winds, the ashes floating from the sky, the feeling that the world was ending. I recorded the vocals, guitars and synths and sent them to Jake (Webb). He added all the piano parts bittersweet and heartbreaking, more synths, all those incredibly beautiful little moments that build the soundscape When I first wrote it, I imagined it to be a bit more upbeat – more frustrated than sad – but the first time that I listened to it, when he sent it back, I just cried. He took Luke Davidson then recorded the drums from his home studio during confinement”.

Bathed in static and ghostly shades of blue-white, the intimate video for “All The Doors…” picks up on the gritty aesthetic of previous visuals. Her face filling the frame, Annie sings into a handheld camera as she wanders around her home, eventually putting the camera down and zooming out to reveal her entire group, joining them briefly, in midair during the cathartic outing of the piece.

Beginning with the rumble of a single rowdy guitar line, ‘Again’ is lush and sumptuous, making you feel like you’re slowly sinking into the deepest part of the ocean, with its swirling layers of loaded instrumentation. of effects and multitrack vocals protrude as it sweeps in a long spurt towards its climactic end. The vivid and scintillating visuals accompanying the track were created by Hamilton, based on images and photographs taken by Jordan Kirk.

On ‘Again’, Hamilton shares: “It was the first song I worked on with Jake Webb (Methyl Ethel). I had written the first half of it and recorded a demo but it felt flat and I didn’t know not what to do with it so i sent it to him and he took it away to add his magic he rearranged it and added some amazing production and sent it back – there was this big long instrumental section at the end and on my first listen I realized this might be home for this verse I had written in 2019 and never figured out what to do with I sat down and recorded the final vocals and that’s all!

The final singles to preview on his upcoming debut album ahead of its release, they follow previous “Night Off”, “Electric Night” and “Exist”, which combined have secured rotation on triple j Unearthed, Double J, FBi Radio, 2SER, SYN FM, NME Radio and more, while garnering local and international praise from triple j, Clash Magazine, BBC Radio 1’s Jack Saunders, and others.

Obsessed with memory, dream worlds, fantasies and parallel realities, the future is there, but the past feels like a transporting and mystical journey that traces the contours of a sweet and high night of summer, moist, red afternoons that give way to electric blue twilights, through navy blue nights sporadically, breathtakingly lit by the whip of treacherous forked lightning, dissolving into warm, hazy mornings that perch on the windowsill of reality another day. Sonically and thematically the future is here, but it feels a bit like past lives in those apathetic hours of liminal awareness, a self-contained universe through the looking glass where time becomes elastic, memories imperceptibly blend into each other. others and the seeds of deep emotional truth come to you in surreal, distorted images.

Synthetic yet raw, polished yet organic, digital yet gritty, Annie Hamilton’s studio debut is suspended in time, between an unrecoverable past and a future that seems never to arrive. Maybe that promised future will never happen, but, then again, maybe we don’t want it anyway – maybe we want something else. Perhaps, as many have throughout the pandemic, we would rather turn to nostalgia, elsewhere to escapism.

“It’s about time passing,” Hamilton explains, “how sometimes it flies by and sometimes it drags on and we’re always looking forward wanting something more or wallowing in nostalgia, stuck in a past that probably wasn’t as good when we remember it… the feeling that the grass is always greener The feeling that there’s never enough time to do everything we want to do, or the feeling that we should have done more with the time that has already passed.”

Working on its own, in collaboration with co-producers Pete Covington and Jake Webb (Methyl Ethel), and with contributions from Jenny McCullagh and Rosie Fitzgerald (I Know Leopard), Matt Mason (DMA’s) and Luke Davison (The Preatures), the future is there but it feels like the past collects little moments of emotion, snapshots now perfectly preserved in time forever. From the disc opener of the awe-inspiring ‘Providence Portal’, through the anthemic, uplifting yet existential ‘Exist’ and on to the dizzying and unbound ‘Electric Night’, Hamilton’s ethereal vocal delivery utterly enchants with a distinct message: ” walk through the portal with me”.

For any soul willing to embark on this journey, the future is here, but it’s a bit like the past sinking into heady fantasies and daydreams that feel viscerally yet supernaturally real in numbers like “Night Off” and the ineffable “Interlude” rich in field recordings. A Dream)’, constantly glitching, swinging its listener past the twinkles of colliding distant worlds (“Bad Trip”) and other lives (as in the dramatic, big-screen number “Pieces of You”), before to draw you into the uncertain and imminent stratosphere with the hazy ‘Labyrinth’ – and into the mercy of ‘All the doors inside my house are slamming into each other’, which gently lengthens you into the first rays of day sun to rest you in time to fly closer ‘Whirlwind’, as the cycle begins again.

Rejecting simple narrative structure in favor of hyper-specific but universally empathetic moments, the future is here, but the past feels a bit like a stylized but grainy collage of snapshots that cover a gigantic range of emotions, sounds and genre, but are bound together as a documentation of small human moments, full of contradiction and duality, reality as metaphor and metaphor as reality, stumbling through life and trying to give it a beautiful and ephemeral meaning.

Watch the clip “All the doors in my house are slamming together” here:

Watch the “again” viewer here:


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