Dawnwalker, an evolving pop-up collective of musicians regularly led by UK’s Mark Norgate, have returned with their sixth album The Unknowing, an effort that feels less like a continuation and more like a step sideways in their creative journey. While previous Dawnwalker albums have explored the realms of “post” and prog, The Unknowing shifts into a more enigmatic and spectral realm. Norgate’s vocals, guitar and keys intertwine with an eclectic mix of contributions, discreet elements like the flute which give it a faint Jethro Tull vibe without ever feeling derivative. Let’s face it, you don’t put together flute and that bass, the trademarked warm and textural presence of Luke Fabian (formerly of Pupil Slicer), and not expect this comparison to rear its head. These additions ground the ethereal soundscapes into something tangible to create a sound that is light, melodic, and sing-along-able, yet layered with a deep sense of the esoteric. It’s a shift that feels both fresh and captivating.
The Unknowing unreels at an unhurried and deliberate pace. The opening track “Thema Mundi” holds back, reflecting a duality in its male and female vocal interplay — a balance between masculine and feminine actually present throughout the entire album — a musical yin and yang that in this case doesn’t reveal its full power until around the three minute mark. Dawnwalker enjoy playing with contrasts, all nine tracks feeling both contemplative and cinematic, serene but occasionally dipping into moments of fine chaos. There are certain elements that carried me away to Angelo Badalamenti’s dreamy yet ever so slightly menacing soundtrack work (the intro to “Novus Homo” for example). This restrained approach is one of the The Unknowing‘s greatest strengths as it doesn’t push to overwhelm or impress you. There’s a quiet Britishness to it: subdued, introspective, and charming. There’s an organic quality too, with ups and downs in sound and instrumentation that feel natural, as if the music breathes on its own. It is airy, almost weightless; to the extent that I wonder whether someone allowing this album only one listen will grasp what lurks beneath the subtle surface.
Despite its moments of complexity, The Unknowing never feels overly embellished. Dawnwalker omits overindulgent solos, flashy moments — no bells (okay, there are), no whistles (we don’t count flutes), no excess. This is music that feels necessary, curated, perfectly placed yet deeply immersive. The production sounds clean, and every instrument acts like it has its place, contributing to a larger whole. The use of panning (notably on “Capricorn”), wraps The Unknowing in a sense of playfulness that is both engaging and hypnotic. Despite a few shifts in mood and texture, a cohesiveness persists, making The Unknowing a journey worth taking from start to finish. Each song builds anticipation, layering sounds with care, casting a spell of hazy atmosphere that feels almost vaporous. Dawnwalker possesses an underlying sense of control and pairs it with a funky bass undercurrent to keep things sounding fresh and dynamic without ever compromising the album’s delicate balance.
The Unknowing teeters on the edge of revealing something just barely out of reach. Its slow, gradual unfolding is what makes it so captivating, open ended, inviting multiple interpretations without ever giving everything away. This sense of mystery comes to a head on “Sword of Spirit”, arguably The Unknowing’s most dynamic and multifaceted track. There is an abundance of layers within its instrumentation and what I considered subtle nods to Dawnwalker‘s diverse musical influences. It almost sounds like the entire album’s story distilled into one song; a narrative you may never fully grasp but one that encourages you to infuse your own experiences into it. That’s the beauty of this track and perhaps of The Unknowing itself: it leaves space for interpretation, allowing each listener to find their own meaning in the melodies, rhythms, and lyrics. That, and it’s just hella catchy.
Dawnwalker have put together something rather special here — an album that embraces the complexity of human emotion and our place in the Universe, an acknowledgement that happiness is often intertwined with the passage of time and fragility of life, a mirror pool that invites one to look deeply into its waters and find meaning, or more questions, within.
