This came out in 2004 – or at least that’s when I got it. Here’s what I said about it back then (with some minor editing):
You have to give Raising The Fawn credit — their new album hasn’t even been out for a month and it’s already a historical artifact.
Of course, that actually has more to do with bad luck and lousy timing than artistic significance. The North Sea was recorded nearly two years ago by a previous incarnation of the band, only to be shelved after two members quit and the group went on hiatus. But now that Broken Social Scene member John Crossingham has breathed new life into the Fawn, North Sea is finally seeing the light of day. Although ‘light’ and ‘day’ aren’t really two words you’d associate with this dusky disc.
Something of a concept album about emotional alienation and physical isolation, the 57-minute North Sea is a beautifully sombre and hypnotic work of post-pop melancholy and introspection. Most of these eight tracks are ambitious and artful mini-epics, with a uniquely compelling musical sensibility which seamlessly merges elements of chamber-folk and orch-pop with echoes of Radiohead and Pink Floyd. As the melodies lazily flow along and the arrangements slowly ebb and flow like the titular waters, occasionally building to a crescendo before returning to a state of soothing calm, Crossingham’s fragile falsetto vocals float atop it all, cast adrift on the waves of his own creation. Strikingly original and intimidatingly accomplished, The North Sea is a fairly historic achievement no matter how you slice it.
