My family used to rent a cottage that was on a quiet river, just as it widened and flowed out into a larger bay. There were maybe two dozen cottages on the property altogether, and pretty minimal options for entertainment if you were an 8-year-old boy. There was a bare-bones playground, a pool, and some pedal boats, but that was about it.
I hasten to add that the lack of activities wasn’t a bad thing. My brother and I loved going to the cottage. But we understood that we had to be prepared for two weeks of making our own fun, while our parents read every newspaper they hadn’t had time to read during the school year.
One way we diverted ourselves was to explore every inch of the place. It wasn’t huge – maybe 10 acres – but when you’re a kid it’s a pretty big area to be allowed to roam freely in. And while most of those 10 acres didn’t present much adventure beyond the occasional grasshopper, one little corner of it became one of my favourite places in the world.
If we followed the river to the eastern end of the property, there was a spot with thick undergrowth, where the trees hung out over the water as if bowing their heads to drink. From a distance it looked impassable, but if we ducked under the first few branches, we found ourselves in a small, shaded patch of riverbank, with the trees providing a canopy perhaps only a few feet above our heads.
It was damp and unspectacular and utterly perfect. We called it “The Secret Place.”
Of course, it probably wasn’t a secret at all. I’m sure many kids went there each summer to escape their parents or find frogs. In our minds, however, we had discovered something previously unseen. We were pioneering settlers who dared explore places that others had never, would never see.
That place is what this band’s name – Hidden Land – makes me think of. The simple and whimsical album art evokes hidden childhood places as well, but it’s the music that ultimately brings my kid-summer nostalgia bubbling to the surface.
What makes this a beautiful song:
1. The vocals, built from intervals that get gradually wider – minor third, perfect fifth, minor sixth, octave. It’s like clicking a deck chair through its various reclining levels until you’re basically horizontal.
2. The slow build: voice, voice & guitar, voice & guitar & strings. A slowly expanding horizon.
3. It’s the opening track on the album, and it has the same feeling of relaxed anticipation that the drive to the cottage used to have for me; the feeling of excitement at the prospect of doing very little for a very long time.
Recommended listening activity:
Sitting in your favourite, preferably secret, place.