At just one minute and thirty one seconds long, Carlos Correa’s Welcome feels something like a short burst of beauty and calm. It’s actually incredibly easy to have this composition play three or four times in a row and not get tired or even pay too much attention to the loop. The story the artist tells within is one that feels genuine, heartfelt, simple and pure.
A few finely selected, organic elements make up the soundscape. There’s an underlying Celtic feel to the progression and to the minimalist nature of the experience, but genre labels and stylistic details don’t need much definition when you’re lost within the moment.
The music has a refreshingly honest aura, a gentleness that feels incredibly vulnerable yet easy to connect with. Perhaps it’s that you don’t hear such freely meandering music of this nature all too often anymore. Perhaps it’s that the composition is the direct result of an encounter or a feeling – as is the role of the true artist, to express that which cannot be put into words. Perhaps it’s both.
To say that the song meanders freely actually seems contrary to the fact that there is an unmistakable thread of melody throughout – the rise and fall of the progression, the movement through the notes, both string and wind, gives off a sense of waves lapping at the shore, or perhaps of a tired chest breathing slowly and deeply. This in itself magnifies the calming effect of the music, thus to listen becomes something that requires or asks of you much more than a single visit.
The shortness of the piece could well match up with the shortness of a welcome, generally speaking – a fitting representation of the title. This is a joyful, warm and genuine hello, and it does what it promises – it makes you feel at ease, involved, and welcomed.