I found love at Hana Stretton and you could’ve too

When you are listening to a sound, as soon as it hits your ears, it's already gone. It totally resists a holding action, there is no way to pause and stare. However, Australian composer, singer and producer Hana Stretton seems to possess the ability to stretch and pull sound beyond these limitations. Based out of rural Australia, she favours creating in isolation. Surrounded by nature, animals and instruments, she draws inspiration from her landscape and a deep appreciation for the life around her. She creates a sort of auditory collage, combining elements of folk, ambient and dream pop over field recordings and layered vocals. The power of her music not only rests in the happening but within the absence as well. It is the softness in the inbetween; the pause before speaking, the sound of shifting weight, the lines between poetry. 

I am sitting in La Sala Rossa on a chair that is too hard and I wish I’d brought a jacket. Stretton begins her set sitting at a grand piano with her back towards the audience. She makes a joke, she stumbles over her words, timid and nervous. When the first note is played the room is plunged into sound, I am not overtaken by chills; I am warmed from the inside out, sonically sipping a spiced liquor. Two synchronous movements happen as she plays the opening notes to “Stove.” I watch as imperceptibly, throughout the crowd straightened backs begin to hunch inward and those already hunched sit up. How do you settle when the blanket of sound falls over you? Into motion or into stillness?  

She plays three songs on the piano, one from her older album Soon released in 2023; and two others from her newest release Tiarn, released this past January. Between songs she talks about whales, penguins and being the seal. It’s ridiculous how she is able to capture the feeling of the ocean so intimately. Her voice rolls out of her mouth and over us warm and malleable. It is the sound of realizing the temperature is not so bad, the sound of wading in and allowing yourself to be momentarily weightless. Throughout these songs she is accompanied by a prerecorded oceanic symphony, there is whale song layered into her own voice during “Right Whale.” The three opening songs work as a detangler, helping our walls come down. How lucky we are to share this experience with so many other people, it is infinitely more special than being alone.

For the remainder of the concert she is on the guitar. There are shells or nuts wrapped around her left ankle and an accordion of some sort under her right. For each song there is an ambient field recording backtrack, it is familiar, like the sound of blood rushing through your ears when you are warm or excited. She begins her guitar set with “Changing Weather”, handling the guitar with the same liquid grace as her voice. 

I am puzzled as to how someone is able to articulate the feeling of being totally in awe of the vastness of nature. Carrying the weight of something so large whilst simultaneously conveying the small and intimate. There is a palpable heaviness of memory in the air, as I look around I see heads bowed and hands clasped tightly, I see loved ones getting pulled closer and heads falling onto shoulders. We are all at once caught up in trance during "Can II." As the song closes and Hana continues to chant and wail, she herself becomes intranced, eyes closed. Is it pain or total peace I am reading on her face? She misses the cue to end the song, no one minds. For the last two songs of her set she brings up folk artist Helena Deland. Together they sing “Can I” and “As It Was Before This.” They do slightly more upbeat renditions of these songs, pulling us up and out of thought. I can see the music surging and flowing through everyone, she is the moon and we the tide. Their voices intertwine and play together, if I close my eyes I can hear the smiles playing off their lips. They are leap-frogging off each other creating a warm and alive melody. As the song and the set finishes we are all on our feet and we are all hugging ourselves or those close to us.

This concert was a beautiful way to welcome fall, embrace it coldly and love it warmly. There are about one hundred people walking around Montreal with a sonic blessing hanging above their heads. I thank Hana Stretton for creating and I thank her agent for booking Pop Montreal.