Quattro
Pop, 1995
Picture it: 1990-something, Japan. I was backpacking across the country, hitting up temples by day and questionable karaoke bars by night, when I happened upon a street market selling everything from antique kimonos to dubious bottles of “elixirs.” Somewhere between a stall of hand-carved wooden frogs and a pile of assorted CDs, I spotted an album. Song to the Earth… by someone called Carmella? For reasons that probably only make sense to the traveling soul, I picked it up, half expecting it to be another kitschy attempt at “exotic” sounds. I took it back to my hostel and popped it into my portable CD player (yes, children, there was a time when music didn’t live in our phones), thinking it’d be background noise at best. Thirty seconds in, I was floored.
Fast-forward a couple decades, and despite losing that CD somewhere along the way, this album has haunted me. I find myself humming refrains that I half remember, singing half-formed melodies to no one but myself, like an earworm from the edges of a dream. Occasionally frustrating, yes, but thanks to the magic of the Internet (and my innate ability to Google-stalk obscure musical memories), I found her again. Carmella, now Carmella Baynie, is teaching yoga in Australia and had kindly uploaded her music to Soundcloud, like some benevolent audio spirit reconnecting me with my musically enlightened self.
Technically speaking, Song to the Earth could be considered pop, but “pop” is a lazy descriptor here. This album feels like pop’s laid-back, spiritually enlightened cousin who doesn’t bother with shoes and somehow always smells like sandalwood. Ms Baynie blends traditional world music with earthy chants and some of the most soothing instrumentation you’ve ever heard. After all, the whole album feels like a lullaby for your soul. I fell asleep listening to it that first night, my mind so serene and peaceful it was like someone had hit my reset button. Song to the Earth isn’t just music; it’s a sonic experience that speaks to your DNA like a calm pep talk from Mother Nature herself.
The album’s highlight is without a doubt Pale Blue Skies. Picture everything good I’ve just mentioned in one song: calming, uplifting, and with the kind of refrain that stays lodged in your brain like it’s paying rent. Sure, the lyrics might lean into nature clichés—skies and trees and oceans, oh my!—but Ms Baynie’s voice transcends that, sweeping you up until you’re practically floating. It’s like free meditative therapy, the kind you drift off to as if on a cloud of bliss. When I put this on, it’s just me, Ms Baynie’s voice, and the open skies, and I drift off with the chorus in my ears, finding the kind of calm I usually need yoga (or two cups of chamomile) to achieve.
The other tracks follow in the same vein, each one casting its own quiet spell. Evening Star, Dance of Paradise, the title track—each feels like it was composed beneath starlight in a circle of ancient trees. Baynie’s voice is soothing yet carries this power, like you’re the last two people on Earth, and she’s singing you ancient secrets. It’s the perfect soundtrack for late-night soul searching or, depending on your mood, the ideal “I just moved to the mountains… but also I’m swimming with the dolphins” playlist.
Of course, then there’s Sub-Tropic Night, the unexpected guest at this otherwise zen party. This song is oddly sensual, almost out of place yet somehow exactly what the album needed. It’s sultry, it’s surprising, and it contrasts deliciously with the gentle, meditative vibe of the other tracks. Not that I’m complaining—I’m more than happy to take a sensual detour if it means I get to enjoy one more track of pure mood-setting magic. Let’s just say that Sub-Tropic Night could get any couple in the mood to spread some earthy, grounded love around.
In summary, this album is a genuine treasure, obscure though it may be. If you’re ever in the mood to feel both enlightened and vaguely mysterious, throw Song to the Earth on. You might come out of it feeling like you’ve just had a conversation with Mother Nature herself. And honestly, who doesn’t need a good dose of ethereal chanting in their life every now and then?
