Sheffield’s Emergence Collective has been quietly making a name for itself over the past half decade, beginning with the smartly titled Emergence I in 2021. Only four musicians appear on that album, but in the interim the collective has ballooned to an incredible 40 musicians, which would be an orchestra if they all played at once. On Concord, they operate as a dectet.
The music is honed by monthly improvisational sessions at The Gardiner’s Rest. According to co-director Jemma Freese, “No piece nor line-up is ever the same.” In short, what is committed to disc is a one-time affair, never to be duplicated.
The album even differs greatly from the ensemble’s last unveiling, 2025’s luscious Swimming in the early hours. Unlike that set, the new album contains neither drums nor voice, but is comprised of five unhurried pieces in which the musicians “respond to minute changes in one another’s playing.” At times, this approach supports long passages reliant on repetition, until one begins to notice the subtle shifts that crack open by the end of the performances.
The cover image is well chosen, as the music expands like rings in a trunk. “In the clearing” begins with solo dulcimer before other traditional instruments join the gentle fray, including nickelharpa, marimba and laúd. One can hear the piece unfolding in real time as the musicians each find their sonic space, like the creatures of a forest finding their frequencies. In one sense, it’s a shame that the piece will never be repeated this way (although it could be made possible through painstaking transcription). In another, it’s a captured moment, a window into time. The reduced density of the midway mark offers a particular intimacy. As the piece rebuilds, new melodic lines develop and turn the work into a sonic Ship of Theseus.
The dectet then travels from the clearing to “In the deepest cavern,” with a corresponding shift in tone. The brass and breath beginning is like that of a pilgrim seeking shelter. Reflection leads to revelation as more players are introduced; the title suggests either a literal cave or an emotional hole that rescuers may enter. Exciting triplets of violin notes enter halfway through. By the end there is company, consolation and grace.
The title track is a surprise in more ways than one. The most obvious is the length: five minutes as opposed to sixteen, eighteen or twenty-one. But the piece also feels different, relatively restrained throughout, beginning with the early plucks, building in confidence and density until it reaches a series of soft crescendos. This quiet denouement lingers in the mind like a dessert wine on the tongue, its slowly-expanding sweetness the perfect way to end the album. It’s time to grab the coats, but nobody wants to leave. (Richard Allen)