Chester Watson’s Lyrical Labyrinth: The Search for Self amid Sonic Experimentation
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Chester Watson, no stranger to the arcane, delves deep into introspection in his most recent offering, fish don’t climb trees. The title, inspired by a possibly apocryphal Einstein quote, resonates with the essence of the album—an invitation to understand oneself on one’s terms. The album cover, a hazy depiction of Watson plummeting from tree branches, resonates with the narrative of self-acceptance and the futility of living up to external benchmarks.
Ever since bursting onto the scene at 15 with the hit “Phantom,” Watson has grappled with the allure and danger of comparisons, notably with lyrical powerhouses like Earl Sweatshirt and MF DOOM. Yet, he has not allowed early pigeonholing to dictate his trajectory, continuing to craft a distinct tapestry of dreamlike beats intertwined with his characteristic unmodulated rapping.
In fish don’t climb trees, Watson embarks on a surreal journey of introspection, maintaining the dreamy narrative threads that have become emblematic of his music. His tracks, a blend of ethereal reflections and enigmatic allusions, usher listeners into the unique realms of his imagination. Although his previous album, A Japanese Horror Film, was a brilliant exhibition of this style, his latest project sees a shift from mystical allusions to introspective retrospections.
Watson’s lyrics, while remaining shrouded in a degree of mystery, offer glimpses into his personal life, juxtaposed against existential musings. A standout moment in the album emerges when Watson delves into dichotomies, with “money & love” symbolizing inner conflicts. His chilling recollection of flying through a snowstorm on “east end” captivates listeners. The album’s instrumental backdrop is equally compelling, swinging from the ambient jazz vibes of the opening track to the sharp 808s on “tourniquet.”
An accompanying piece, Monotone Samurai: Chester Watson on A Japanese Horror Film, offers deeper insights into Watson’s evolution as an artist. While he occasionally stumbles in marrying his unique cadence with varying beat tempos, the audacity of his experimentations, as in “i feel alive,” is commendable. However, there are moments, like in “bora bora,” where the amalgamation of sound and word feels less cohesive.
Nevertheless, fish don’t climb trees is a testament to Watson’s artistic journey—a symphony of highs and lows, yet consistently novel. This album is not just another collection of songs but a reflective chronicle of a talented artist’s voyage in understanding himself amid the clamor of expectations.
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