A sense of freedom underscores the Australian troubadour’s third album, an in-part continuation of the freeform jazz and folk leanings that powered We Are Still Wild Horses, with its breeziness traded for cathartic passages delving into Tomlinson’s internal psyche and fluctuating spatiality. Where guitar solos pierced the latter record’s baroque sonic backdrops, Die To Wake Up From A Dream tacks to a doggedly disorientating vision that sees ambitious soundscapes dialed up to eleven, notably a nine-minute title track that scopes influence from the heady late-60s/early-70s avant-garde scene.
Previously joining Nina Persson and Rolling Blackouts Coastal Fever on tour, Tomlinson’s creative presence is matched by such company kept, with songwriting that has always had one foot in the ether, a trend of thematic introspection and stylistic liberation continued with his latest record. The psychic spaces, both physical and digital, that anchor modern society are traversed through a vast psychedelic lens, an innately hypnopompic atmosphere that despite its moments of discord seeks harmony with the imperfect realities and uncomfortable truths of daily life.
Orchestral arrangements take greater precedence, the title-track drawing tonally from Spirit of Eden-era Talk Talk via early King Crimson, intersected with a croon that meanders between wavering vulnerability and confidence. “I’m On The Border” similarly speaks to the liminal space tapped into, taking on a more literal edge in dealing with Tomlinson previously facing the possibility of deportation: “Imagine if I had to go / And I never saw you again / Not even at the show or every other weekend”. The immediacy and finality of such struggles are channeled into a sonic hinterland, circling back into the existentialism at the album’s heart.
“A Meadow (Part II)” is a sprawling pastoral piece that begins with George Harrison-steered hooks and a soft Nick Drake-esque tenor, sweeping keys and flutes adjacent to anecdotes honing in on varied experiences such as working Glastonbury as part of Dry Cleaning’s technical team: “They were fixing to play The Park / I was getting blown up by Wet Leg”. Elsewhere, the former’s lead Florence Shaw lends guest vocals to “Your Flight (Dying/Another Dream)”, delving into a nightmarish stream of consciousness journey that bewilders and engages, leaving a raw, albeit dizzying impression. “Dream Of You” bursts into an anarchic cacophony that loops through neo-psychedelic keys and dystopian notes, thinly disguised nihilism lurking in its lyrical centre: “There’s no atoms to collide / There’s no space to displace”. Tomlinson merges joy, despondence and inevitability with the turbulence of percussion and baritone overlays, escalating to an ouroboros-like climax that never quite reconciles itself.
Where the psychological impact of lockdown set the context for debut Strange Time, Die To Wake From A Dream is torn between competing openness and oppressive pressure, with symmetry and discord revolving in a feverish subconscious world. MF Tomlinson remains attached to projecting such esoteric scale via ambitious compositions, leaning on an increasingly grandiose vision with a third album that is undeniably idiosyncratic in intention.
