Park Jiha‘s last album, The Gleam, was experimental in tone, focusing on permutations of light. A unique combination of traditional Korean instruments: piri, saenghwang, yanggeum and glockenspiel, opened new sonic worlds to the listener, like blinds being opened to the sun. Despite sharing a similar sonic palette, All Living Things is calmer in tone, an ode to the cycles of the natural world. The addition of electronics has a soothing effect, sloughing off the rougher edges. Yet both releases share an engaging positivity. The artist seeks the connections in All Living Things, attempting to give her listeners hope. The album comes across as a series of mantras, a meditative exercise perfect for the morning, but suitable for any time of day.
The linked titles of the opening pieces, “First Buds,” “Grounding,” “Bloom” and “A Story of Little Birds,” sing of spring. The chimes of the opener, rung sparingly, act as a call to worship: not to a church service, but to a walk in the woods, or even in one’s own yard. “Grounding” begins to awaken, a bit faster, more engaged. One might interpret the title in two ways: the literal, setting bare feet on new soil, or the metaphorical, being grounded in a sense of connection to the natural world. As the flute and glockenspiel take center stage in “Bloom,” one can sense the flowers unfurling, turning their faces to the sun; and when the tempo increases again in “A Story of Little Birds,” one imagines first flights. These pieces are a reminder of the season to come and the possibilities inherent in cycles, both physical and spiritual.
“Growth Ring’ brings the subject to summer, but also to perspective as one looks back on one’s life and realizes that one has not only survived, but grown. A tree’s growth ring also bears a record of experience: floods and droughts, years of storms and years of serenity. In contrast, “Blown Leaves” looks forward to fall, but with less trepidation in light of what has come before. When one grows acclimates to nature’s cycles, one need not fear transition.
In the closing triptych, Park Jiha does not turn to winter, as expected, save in a symbolic sense. The closing pieces are intended to reflect the rather dour sounding “decline to death,” but when paired with “The Eternal Path,” death is only a spoke in the cycle. In the same way as The Gleam traveled from dawn until dusk, prefacing another dawn, All Living Things travels from youth to old age, prefacing eternity: a solace and an encouragement. (Richard Allen)
