boycalledcrow: Emerald




One of the great thing about being a 90’s babies is that we grew up in a golden era. We didn’t recognize it as such, but there’s a reason why there is so much nostalgia for that period. Everything seemed tailor made for us. Then when as we got older, things got more bland. We couldn’t put our finger on it. But we knew something was missing.

Fast forward to today and we consume media to the point we’ve become morbidly obese. And like somebody who is morbidly obese, we consume these empty vacuous pieces of media, not because we enjoy it, but because we are starving. Starving for something more meaningful, starving for something with more soul, starving for something original–you get the idea. So if we wanna figure out how we can be fulfilled–we gotta work for it. Luckily you have me, and luckily there are artists like boycalledcrow.

Now there’s a reason why I bring up “media” in this album review. First off look at the cover art. Then listen to Clouds and Flurt. So what form of media do you recall? Movies? Literature? Plays? Video Games…?

It’s video games.

Now video game music is an incredibly bizarre phenomena. Since the art form is so new, it’s an accident that most of the music that we liked was even likeable in the first place. Plays always had music, ever since the Greeks, there was always some type of music being played. And since movies were originally an extension of theatre, it wasn’t frowned down upon to be a film composer. Even the silent film era, music was an integral part of the medium.

Video game music was basically a cop out. It was for artists who never fulfilled their dreams. Yet our generation lapped it up. Even today look up game soundtracks of the 80’s, 90’s or early 00’s. Look at the amount of views there are. On paper this should not be happening. How could the music of people who couldn’t make it in the music industry be popular? How did they make music that resonated with people with the lack of hardware, instruments, and studio polish of most major label bands?

So now we get to boycalledcrow’s album Emerald. An album that has refined the music of misfits into an art form.

There are 10 tracks on this album, and boycalledcrow somehow figured out 10 different ways to create a feeling of comfiness. Now unless you wake up on a bed of nails, drink bleach to wake you up, and shower in acid–you, like anybody–should love feeling comfy.

To begin the review let’s start at the beginning, Clouds. The first thing you hear and what is a defining part of this album is the ambience. How does boycalledcrow accomplish this? Mainly through his ability to craft these swirling pieces of background ambience. They always have this really melodic structure even though at first listen they don’t appear to be melodic at all. Rather they swirl around a melody, touching it ever so gently, and then dispersing. Which in all actuality, sounds like what vaporwave should sound like, since it’s sound is so ethereal.

Then there’s this pitch perfect kick drum that introduces the next crucial piece of this album. Which are the synths, which as mentioned before has this video game type of aesthetic. While every track carries this aesthetic, it’s hinted at with Clouds and compounded on with Flurt. While yes, the 8-bit synths in Flurt can at times be distorted and morphs into something atonal–it never really loses it comfiness. Mainly as part of the generation who grew up on video games, the synths carry a sense of nostalgia.

Now I don’t believe I’ve ever made any claims on being objective, but personally anything with that 8-bit video game kind of sound has immediately garnered my attention. I say that it carries with it a degree of nostalgia. As it does for the rest of my generation. Yet not for the reasons that you think. You see, even though people born in the 90’s always talk about how great the 90’s were, it’s almost always never what the 90’s were like. Rather it’s what we wished the 90’s was like.

Growing up you’re never fully conscious of the things around you. Everything floats around you, you never really are apart of the experience. Then the things you do experience, become apart of you to so much a degree that you don’t recognize that it’s apart of you. If you sat anybody down and asked them what their favorite games growing up would be, people would rattle off games like Legend of Zelda Ocarina of Time, Metal Gear Solid, Final Fantasy 7, etc. None of those games have that characteristic 8-bit sound. Yet ask any “90’s Baby” what they loved about video game music, and you get the same answer the 8-bit synths.

So with just two songs, boycalledcrow has done something really remarkable. He’s created the musical ambience of time traveling back to the 90’s. That time we briefly remember as kids, and the things that emotionally resonated with us. He’s created a sense of familiarity, a sense of coming home. It would be the equivalent of showing our grandparents old adventure serials of the 40’s. Even if they didn’t grow up on them, it still emotionally resonates with them.

Yet as I said before, even though we all say that we grew up on that 8-bit style of synth, it’s almost always never the case. So now we get to the next song on the album Ghost. This is the more authentic version of what “90’s babies” actually grew up listening to. The ambient tape loops, fuzzy bass, crystal clear percussion, and zombie like moans (which sounds like something out of an N64 game) is more or less what we actually grew up with.

The 90’s and 00’s were a transition period where everything became either incredibly sincere, or either incredibly corporate. You had artists like Kurt Cobain who wrote songs about being sad, and showed how sincere he was by shooting himself. Then you had Biggie and Tupac who wrote songs about being gang bangers, and show how sincere they were by getting shot. I know I’m simplifying things for effect but the fact of the matter is we were not apart of that.

I grew up when Brittany Spears and Boy Bands were getting popular, and if you liked them it meant you were a mouth breathing troglodyte. So by complete accident I, and other people of my generation got funneled into video game music. I mean what other options were there? Listen to music that you had to follow with 100% sincerity, and either be thought of as a wrist cutter or gang banger. Or listen to music that everyone thought was shallow and if you enjoyed it you were an idiot for liking it. Either way we had no say in the conversation, but we did have one piece of media we could like. Without any judgement from our peers. Video games.

Since video game soundtracks had a lot of moods to capture. Think of any video game of that period, and think of the different genres they had to pull off whether it’s the creepiness of a Resident Evil, the since of wonderment of The Legend of Zelda, or the melancholy piano of Silent Hill. When I say boycalledcrow sounds a lot like video game soundtracks. It’s not a pejorative. It’s the highest praise you can receive.

Because if we return to Ghost it is musically an incredibly avant garde piece of music on paper. From the repeating tape loops, to the shifting rhythm, and the zombie like moans–if you were to take this to someone who didn’t grow up on video games–it would be incredibly experimental. Yet for millennials it’s impossible not to feel a sense of familiarity, and therefore comfort in the sound. And it’s all due to video games. From the people who couldn’t make it in the music industry, still trying to create good music. So since they were still trying to create good music, they were going to use the tools of the experimental, underground, classical composition, etc. To create the music we grew to love. And why I believe it’s so easy for boycalledcrow to make such emotionally resonate music.

To illustrate this point let’s look at the next song, Distant. With it’s spacious luscious keys, that has this incredible sense of intimacy to it. Which is a pretty difficult task to accomplish. Capturing a sense of warmth and a sense of distance. Before you listen to it, postulate on how you would try to accomplish it. What type of scenario would cause you to feel distance, and yet feel a since of intimacy? Now that you have the scenario–and here’s the tricky part–what would it sound like?

So I’ll give you my take, and then I’ll offer an explanation of how it’s accomplished. It’s like after an incredible first date, when you have dinner and both of you have this incredible chemistry. Then after dinner, you drive her home, work up the courage to kiss her, and on the car ride back you feel this intense sense of intimacy. The person just left and you drive farther and farther away. Yet the connection you had just grows more and more inside you. How boycalledcrow accomplishes this feat is mainly the instrument choice which provides a sense of distance, and then the music structure which has an incredible sense of warmth. Combine these elements together and BAM! You get a song like Distant.

Next up we have Birds. Now Birds is the song I would show anybody to illustrate how great boycalledcrow is at creating melodic synths. The snyths have this heavenly kind of melody to it. From the spacious keys and textures that reverb throughout the background. To the melodic piano and synth arpeggios.

I always praise artists who understand synthesizers. That they’re not like an electric guitar that you can bend, hammer, or spontaneously interject your own flair to. Yes it can be done on synthesizers, but when you’re dealing with electronic music you need to understand music in and of itself. You need to have a bit of an ear for composition, structure, and general music theory. You’re not a rockstar, rather you become a composer. Replace any of the synths on this track with classical instruments and it would still hold it’s own. Yet it’s boycalledcrow’s ability to use the synths at his disposal, and utilize them in a way that creates this wonderful soundscape.

Now we get to Africa, and no it’s not a remake. This track with it’s 8-bit bass, exotic percussion, swirling pads, twinkling mallets, and synth arpeggios doubles down on the nostalgia. As mentioned previously that 8-bit sound always carries emotional weight since it’s always associated with video games. As a millennial video games were the default medium. But then boycalledcrow does something interesting.

He adds these exotic sounding percussion, and twinkling mallets. Which really adds to the child-like sense of wonderment. So what do I mean by that? Well, the percussion like any the percussion in any great song adds a sense of energy to the track. That, and the fact it’s so exotic, or rather has such a unique rhythmic structure which makes it exotic. Then there are the mallets which even further compounds on this since of child-like wonder. It could be because this sound is so often associated with childhood whether it’s from a music box, or a mobile (the thing above a baby’s crib) it all has that same texture.

Then combine that with a name like Africa. Now as an adult when you think of Africa you think of politics, humanitarian issues, social issues, or whatever. But ask a kid what they think of Africa, and 9 times out of 10 it’s going to be about Lions, Giraffes, Zebras, etc. It’s that child like sense of wonderment that what makes this track great. And showcases how boycalledcrow and create 10 different tracks of 10 different kinds of comfy.

Next up we have Butterfly and Vapor. Both are tracks that start off aggressive. Whether it’s the distorted synth arpeggios of Butterfly, or the sharp snare and growling synth of Vapor. Yet as I said before every track on this album is comfy how can something be aggressive yet at the same time be comfy? Well as mentioned before boycalledcrow has an incredible ability to create great pieces of ambience.

This ambience is able to seamlessly morph, fluctuate, and shift. This fluidity is what’s able to temper even the most aggressive of sounds. Yet it’s the juxtaposition of these two sounds which causes a different kind of comfy. It’s the kind of comfiness you get after working long hours, going on an exhaustive vacation, or being in a social setting for a long period of time. While physically taxing, these tasks are nonetheless relaxing. As the case with this song, the music might aggressive, yet at the same time you can still feel an incredible sense of comfort.

Finally we get two the last two songs of the album, Amber and Grid. Amber can serve as the best representation of this album. All of boycalledcrow’s strengths, of creating beautiful melodic pieces, while maintaining this incredible atmosphere are all in splendor glory here. Yet it’s Grid that’s the real show stopper. With it’s more dramatic intro as the kick introduces these spacious keys, hi hats that create this incredible sense of rhythm, and then an orchestral synth that overwhelms you. This song in particular has a larger than life appeal to it, and is the perfect ending to an already great album.

It’s the kind of ending you’d imagine that audiences would cheer for. As the band is about to pack up their things, the audiences demanding an encore, and then the band plays their most epic song. The band plays to an audience wide eyed, and jaw dropped. Then when they’re done, the audience doesn’t demand an encore anymore. Not because they weren’t satisfied, but because they are speechless.

Every millennial looks back in time and we look at how great the media we used to enjoy was. But the fact of the matter is, is that it was great because WE made it great. I highly doubt any CEO would have predicted that a Japanese Cartoon about an alien fighting other aliens over dragon balls that could grant wishes would be a smash hit. But WE made it into a smash hit. Music industry moguls would have never have guessed that video game music would be as enjoyed as much as it is today, yet here we are. And it is only possible because WE made it possible.

boycalledcrow did something amazing with this album. He showed us all the power that we truly had. That WE have the ability to create an oasis out of a desert. We can make great art that captures the things that we held so near and dear to us. So with that ability to create greatness, and a greatness that is unique to our generation, I give this album my full recc.

Acef Stripe: Renascent

As I’ve addressed before, electronic music has a soul problem. Specifically how do you express the human condition through electronic bleeps and blurps? One of the reasons people can’t stand modern music is because of how artificial it is, and how inhuman it all sounds. And with the increasing awareness of “Industry Standards,” where people will make music built upon looking “Professional” rather than based on self expression–music is losing it’s soul. You don’t even have to focus on mainstream music, even the underground scene is losing it’s soul.

Which begs the question, how do you find the soul in the machine?

Well first let’s ask ourselves what’s the most intimate of relationships we can have? No, I don’t mean about sex, or the guy/girl you’ve been dating for 4 months. No, we’re going to go deeper than that–because no matter what–if that girl you’ve been dating for months says something about your mom, it’s over. So we’re going to talk about family.

Now the thing about family, is that it’s not often sung about in modern music. Now why is that? Singing about a breakup is easy, because we’ve all gone through one, we can relate to it, and if you have the correct attitude it’s optimistic–because as the saying goes, there are always plenty of fish in the sea. Now singing about say your wife dying, your son dealing with addiction, seeing your Mom and Dad for the first time in a really long time, getting in fights with your sister even though you’re both grown adults and shouldn’t be doing that. It’s a lot more vulnerable and personal of a position to be in.

So due to that vulnerability there is going to be a lot more subtle emotional expressions that require a lot more nuance and subtlety. Which is what Acef Stripe exceeds at, and the fact that it was expressed by father and son through electronic synth based music is a testament to their songwriting ability.

Take We Thought We Lost You. The track starts out with this chaotic kind of melody, that like the cover art doesn’t really have a shape; yet the tones of the synth, like the colors on the album art convey an incredibly warm tone. Chaos is a really difficult expression to label it as, yet “We thought we lost you” implies a turbulent emotional time. Remember that time when you thought something bad was going to happen to one of your family members, and remember your emotions. At first the anxiety and uncertainty, is the only emotion that you can really put a finger to. Then when you finally get to see them–that they’re alright–and you reach out to hug them, that chaos forms into something different. It forms into a cathartic expression of love.

The next track Hourglass is so comfy. The orchestral synths in the background lull you into this inviting kind of atmosphere. The best way you can describe the atmosphere is that imagine you are in when you’re away from family for an extended amount of time. After taking a cab to the airport, getting a family member to pick you up, meeting them at the baggage claim, driving home, and seeing the rest of your family and chatting about how your lives have been going. It’s that immediate feeling of familiarity, without any awkwardness, or desire to impress them that makes those moments so inviting–and what makes it so personal. So the synths that slowly arpeggio this slow melodic trance, don’t have the chaotic kind of melody as the previous track. It’s pure comfiness. So even if you don’t have a family, or can’t relate to the comparison of music to family, you can at least relate to snuggling up in bed and watching Netflix, right? If you ever felt comfortable at all in your life, and don’t wake up everyday drinking acid, sleeping on a bed of nails, taking cold showers, or working customer service; then you can relate to being comfy. And if you can relate to being comfy, then you can relate to this song.

So now we get to A Reunion, this track in particular calls back to David Bowie’s 1977 album Low. Which I don’t like to use comparison to other albums, yet the “Slow side” (as Bowie called it) of the album is something that hasn’t been expanded upon. Since Bowie shed so many different genres, and styles, that he could make many masterpieces in varying genres. Yet with Low it’s a sound that’s never been revisited before, as much as it should have. Maybe it’s due to the fact since it was so creative it just inspired artists to be more creative. Or perhaps the people who appreciated it added bits and pieces of it to their own work. Who knows? But regardless, this song in particular expounds on the ideas expressed on Low and adds new emotional dimensions to the album. Because Low was coincidentally made at a “Low” point of Bowie’s life (see what I did there). It’s incredibly somber because if you just got fucked over by your manager, got addicted to coke, got into Fascism for some reason, got divorced, moved to a different country, and then tried to start all over sober and clean; your album isn’t going to be brimming with joy. So if you want to musical equivalent of Christmas morning with your family; with the amazing synths, arpeggios, and bells that this track has to offer–then this is the song for you.

I Should Have Spoken is the track which I would say has the only source of conflict. That conflict being the sizzling hum of a synth on one ear, all while a warm melodic melody is being played in the other. It’s the kind of soundtrack that would be played after there is a big fight. The kind of fight that at the moment is hurtful, but later when everything is reconciled the sound morphs into this warm loving tone. Since I’ve made the comparison to family a lot, anybody can tell you that there is going to be a few fights in any family. Hence why the sizzling pulsating synth works so well in this track. Yet what separates that conflict from any other is that deep down inside, you know that you still love each other.

Next up is Second Chances, and I have to say, I LOVE THE DRUM in this track. It has this kind of synthy ballroom kind of sound, which is really the only way to describe it. I think with the percussion, the bass which sounds amazing (which really reminds me of Final Fantasy VIII for some reason), and the lead synths that  has that shimmering tone (kind of like some 90’s Dr. Dre kind of synth) gives it this real party vibe. Like you’re with your family on New Year’s Eve, and the ball is about to drop so you cork open the champagne bottle. Basically it’s a laid back celebratory kind of sound that gets all more endearing the more you listen to it.

Finally there’s Tumbleweeds At Dusk which opens up with an ambient synth, and almost whiny synths. When I say whiny, I don’t mean cheesy emotional, I mean whiny as the expected kind of thing when you’re about to leave your family. You’re all kind of sad that you’re going back home after visiting them, and they try not to cry–yet good byes are never easy–so the tears begin to flow. Yet as I said before, this album is filled with such warmth, it’s not an existential kind of sadness. It’s a sadness filled with great joy, because you had a great time, you all got to see each other again. So when your plane is about to depart, and the sadness begins to fade away; all that’s left is the recollection of those brief moments of pure love.

It’s these types of emotional expressions that you rarely hear in popular music. With everybody try to exert their own individuality, by being more abrasive, shocking, depressive, or hedonistic; you lose a lot of opportunity to express other feelings on the emotional spectrum, that is the human condition. So with this album Acef Stripe has managed to find the soul in the machine, and I hope that this father son duo continue to make great music. Because music that has this much emotional capacity needs to be heard.

With their ability to put to sound the depth, and complexity of emotions rarely heard on music; I give this album my full recc. Please check it out.

Xqui: Capitulate

In Tarkovsky’s 1979 film Stalker, there is a place called the Zone. The Zone is a dangerous yet miraculous place. The Stalker who routinely guides people to the zone has nearly every aspect of his life ruined, from his relationships, his financial situation, his daughter who is deformed, and even the people he guides questions his motivations. After all the Zone is an uninhabitable place filled with unimaginable horrors; any wrong step can cause a person to burst into flame, have cardiac arrest, or to just simply just disappear.

The place the Stalker guides these men to is the room where once entered can cause all of your deepest desires to come true. Yet we hear a story in the beginning of a Stalker who decided to enter the room, and months later after he entered it, he committed suicide.

So why bring this up on an album review? The reason is simple. Every artist–for some odd reason–enters the Zone. The place of creativity, of self expression, of individualism; and like the Stalker we are drawn to it. Even if it costs our relationships, finances, and self esteem. After all, there’s a reason for all the VH1 Behind the music specials, being an artist is not easy. This album itself is a microcosm of being an artist, and creates the sonic equivalent of being in the Zone. It is an album of unbridled creativity, and fearlessness–and in that fearlessness we get closer to why we make music in the first place.

Take the first track for example, Xqui x Radio Europa – Impotus. Which is an excellent opener, for it sets the stage, that this album is an exploration of the unknown–of new musical frontiers. The pad swirls around in an ethereal tone as it builds upon itself–adding more and more anxiety–only to be interrupted by a kick drum. Then as the pads return, and in that return we hear the ambient noises of what sounds like the breathing of a great monster, and the wails of lost souls.

Another facet of this album that has to be explored is that the soundscape in this album sounds at times incredibly synthetic, and incredibly orgainic. Take the synthetic music of  Tich for example; a track that has an almost EDM/dubstep kind of feel, yet still somehow maintains that thick sense of ambience. Yet tracks on this album can sound incredibly organic. So organic, in fact, that it sounds like you’re more listening to a living breathing creature than an ambient album. Take 0208e the deep reverbed ambience in the background as before, sounds like you’re in the belly of some great beast. The only interruption from this ambience comes from a synth that floats above the rest of the sound–like an electronic cicada– while a sampled voice that states, “To touch the face of God.”

Which brings me to my next point. While listening to this album there is a sense of unease, while at the same time an incredible sense of beauty. The track that best exemplifies this is Epiphany whose amazing choir is interrupted by this dirty sounding electronic noise–like a radio’s last transmission before it dies–and these borderline tribal sounding percussion. It’s this sense of unease, and heavenly sounds that calls to mind Penderecki, who if you don’t know made songs like this.

Now why would someone make a song that terrifying about God? It’s not blasphemous, rather it presents God as an unknowable, unimaginable, entity, and as a result we feel anxious as a listener. For every artist deals with the unknown, the ethereal, and the strange. It’s human nature to label something, and to give it meaning. Then when we’re unable to quantify something, to stick a label to it, or give it meaning–it causes a great deal of anxiety.

Penderecki understood that being avant-garde all the time, is entertaining for about 10 minutes, but it’s not something to build an entire concert on. So he would often have pieces of music that for highly avant garde followed by music that was highly conventional. In doing so he created music that you could listen to at a concert.

Xqui does the exact same thing with songs like Deathbed, that starts off avant-garde, then transforms with these wonderful lullaby like vocals. With creates a comforting atmosphere, gives the audience room to breathe, and allows the track to explore different types of sonic textures. While the lyrics, “I died in your bed,” adds a melancholy layer to the track, it’s familiar enough to anchor the listener to something knowable. Which shows not only Xqui’s ability to craft conventional songs, but also how they can use, what appears to be a normal song, to still be avant-garde.

Finally when we get to Valley it starts off with this innocent sounding flutes, but then devolves into something more unknown, and therefore more terrifying. What sounds like animals screaming, with a vicious synth in the background, while a choir sings an ethereal song in the background, all while the flute loses all of it’s original form, and becomes borderline atonal. A perfect ending to an amazing ambient albums that defies expectations, and creates an entirely new world.

What I appreciated the most while listening to this album was how fearless Xqui was willing to express themselves. Most creative people are able to enter the Zone as mentioned, previously before, but few are willing to go that extra step. That step, that separates the trappings conventional music into full self expression. Instead of the story of the Stalker who killed himself for finally entering the room, here we see in this album an artist who succeeds in expressing themselves, and is able to stand tall in the sea of musical stagnation. And for that Xqui should be applauded.

I give this creative whirlwind of a ride, my full-hearted recc.


Elizabeth Joan Kelly: Music for the DMV

One of the great things about art is how it transforms the mundane and the average, into something beautiful. Anybody can look at any great painting from say Van Gogh and admire it’s beauty, but most of it is just snapshots taken from everyday life, filtered through Van Gogh’s perception of it. Likewise Elizabeth Joan Kelly’s Music for the DMV, takes the unpleasant experience of being at the DMV (because let’s face it if you breathe air, and drive a car, then you’re not going to enjoy going to the DMV) and makes it into something beautiful.

So the question is how does she make it a beautiful? The best way to describe the album, is that it isn’t a way to make the DMV more calming; in fact tracks like Ghost in the Machine, Sci Fi Drive, and Silent Space Scream would do the complete opposite. As she describes the album ” Music for the DMV (after Brian Eno’s Ambient 1: Music for Airports, but more angsty…because no one likes the Department of Motor Vehicles).” Yet I said before the music transforms the mundane experience of going into the DMV into something beautiful; so how does she accomplish this?

Well to begin with let’s take the actual sound. The very first thing I noticed in all of her tracks, is how layered, varied, and textured her sound is. It’s a vague description, I know, so I’ll break it down. So whenever anybody uses midi style instruments for making electronic music, there are like a thousand different presets for every humanly possible sound. Most people–myself included–kind of stick to around let’s say 15 different presets. Elizabeth Joan Kelly seems to know how to use all of them. Take Ambient Industrial Gymnopedie, you can hear the classical music influence (it is after all based off of Erik Satie’s Gymnopédie no. 1), yet there are so many different synths, textures, layers, and an incredible industrial drumbeat that ties it all together–the track even re-invents a classical piece of music. The best comparison I could make is take cooking, I can make a mean bowl of chili, yet if you were to give me a duck I would have no idea what to do with it. Then let’s take a 5 star chef, you give him a duck he could make hundreds of dishes with it. Even the bowl of chili he would know exactly what ingredients to use, how to cook it, and improve upon it. Likewise Elizabeth Joan Kelly is like a 5 star chef in that she knows exactly what ingredients to use in each track, what sound works with what, what textures and synths to use, etc. to create this wonderful soundscape.

Yet this is Music for the DMV, the DMV isn’t exactly well known for it’s musical innovation. So how does the serene dreamy pop atmosphere of Call My Number and the creepy intense atmosphere of Silent Space Scream fit into being at the DMV? Now one could say that each track represents a sort of mood, a story of being at the DMV, which each twist and turn being represented by a song. Yet when you hear the 8-bit video game sound of Bowl City, the album becomes something different. Every track is so imaginative and world building that it feels less like an emotional journey at being at the DMV but rather the day dreaming of a creative person. Let’s take Calvin and Hobbes for a moment, because everybody loves Calvin and Hobbes. Anytime Calvin is at school his imaginative day dreams really have nothing to do with school, take this comic strip for example.

Now you notice that regardless of what is going on at school, Calvin was going to daydream about this. Whether he’s at school, home, the playground, or wherever Calvin is going to daydream about dinosaurs, astronauts, superheroes, plane crashes, etc. his surroundings aren’t going to limit his imagination. You see where I’m going with this?

Elizabeth Joan Kelly Music for the DMV isn’t so much a soundtrack for being at the DMV rather it’s a sandbox of creativity, a sort of jumping off point to go off on some imaginative adventure. Where Brian Eno’s Ambient 1: Music for Airports is a relaxing soundtrack to get people not to freakout that they’ll soon be flying 10,000 feet at 700 mph in a metal tube; Elizabeth Joan Kelly’s Music for the DMV says, “Hey I know this sucks being here, but let’s go on an adventure!”

So now that I used Calvin and Hobbes, now I’m going to be getting biblical. In John Milton’s Paradise Lost Satan says after being expelled out of heaven and stranded in hell, “The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven…” And let’s be real if there is a hell it’s probably a lot like the DMV. Yet Elizabeth Joan Kelly’s music is like a guided meditation for the creatives, for the daydreamers in all of us, and something that helps us escape our immediate surroundings–and by accomplishing that she has made the mundane beautiful.

For providing the soundtrack, and even anthem of all daydreamers I give this album my recc.


solarein: neon demons


There’s a reason why I write so often in my reviews about technological anxieties. After all most of the music I review wouldn’t be possible; due to either the software/hardware used to create the sound, and also the means, in which I am able to listen to the music, through the internet.

Yet something strange has happened to humanity as a result of all these technological innovations. We’ve been able to receive any pleasure, talk to any person from any place on earth with internet connection, we can find any piece of information at the click of a mouse; but with these new technological achievements it brings with it a sort of nihilism. Is life nothing more than the pursuit of pleasure? We can talk to anybody, anywhere, at any time, yet are the connections meaningful? With all the abundance of information–what is true and what is false? In short, the more we use computers, the more we become like computers–a series of inputs, and outputs.

I bring this up, because solarein’s album neon demons is the perfect encapsulation of all these themes and expresses the feelings many of us have felt about this drastic change in human nature. Take the opening track neon demons, the synths are so expertly crafted panning over to each ear, while an ambient sort of electronic choir sings. In fact it’s one of the best crafted electronic songs I’ve ever heard.

This will be a pattern in all of solarein’s music. Every single thing is so well crafted that you cannot do anything but admire his technical prowess. From the ambience, to the guitar playing, to the samples he chooses, etc. Everything he touches is so well done, so perfected, and mastered so precisely– that it’s not like other artists who have a synth song and then slap a guitar solo over it, or blend ambient textures with electronic music. No. Each piece of the puzzle fits so well, and with any slight change would alter the track drastically.

So back to neon demons with solarein’s technical prowess it’s man at his best conquering technology. Yet it’s not a triumphant sound, it’s an existential dread. Even the ambient noise in the background has this grating noise in the back ground, that switches to a choir pad, and then to a distorted guitar. It’s unnerving. Both the technical skill that is displayed, and the existential dread it produces. Like a matador who awes the crowd by slaying the bull–bows at the applause–and then limps out of the arena; traumatized by the experience.

The next track, schism provides even more context into this struggle of man vs. technology. Every single musician–who is in modern music–first played guitar. We all wanted to be Jimi Hendrix, we all wanted to be Eddie Van Halen. All of modern music, is nothing more than cultural residue of the social revolutions of the 60’s where Frank Sinatra was replaced by the fab four. The guitar playing is as great as any of the bands we used to listen to, it’s guitar tone is rich, unique, and fits perfectly with the song. The synthetic drums, and synths take a backseat to the music, and then it happens. A sample of what sounds like underwater ambience takes over, and you hear the tearing apart of something. And then you realize what it is. That we are living through another social revolution, where the guitar playing of the past is being washed away and torn out. The cultural memories and achievements of the past are being replaced with digitized world of the present.

broken doesn’t at first sound like it’s broken. The pads, and ambient textures feels like something to be marveled at. Even the choirs sound a bit heavenly. But it’s precisely this soundscape that sets us up for the rest of the track. Whenever something new is accomplished we all huddle around it and marvel. Humanity pats itself on the back for it’s accomplishments. We look at every new advancement with pride, as we “progress.” Even some of the synths and electronic blips sounds like a cicada’s chirp on a hot summer day. It’s impressive that solarein is able to accomplish such a feat, to make the synthetic sound as natural as the real world. Yet this technological tower of Babel, can never rival the beauty and majesty of the natural world, and solarein interrupts this beautiful electronic soundscape with an anxious industrial distorted sound. It reminds us that even a futuristic technological society will still malfunction. The question is, who will it be first, us or the machines?

The next track nucleus continues to show how talented solarein is in creating an atmosphere. Little details like the sound of birds chirping, reminds me of a little story about the famed novelist Vladimir Nabokov. A student approached him, and told him that he wanted to be a writer, Nabokov pointed to a tree and asked, “What is the name of that tree?” The student answered, “I don’t know,”  and Nabokov replied, “Then you will never be a writer.” It’s the ability to insert little details like that, that makes solarein such a great artist. The birds chirping with a beautiful airy ambience in a background, creates a mood that is both meditative and introspective. Something that calls back to something more real and substantive. In fact in choosing the title name nucleus” even further solidifies the human element into the song. After the hellish industrial noise of broken the track needs an answer; after all we’ve only had the internet for about 20 years, this isn’t our natural state–but the peaceful sound of nucleus creates a sort of yearning of a time long gone.

It’s no surprise that after this the track titles take on a more nature themed names, like evergreen or bloom. evergreen begins with these reverbed out vocals, that sound so ancient. The vocals sound so old, and wearied yet so expansive, as though they were being played out on top of a mountain for the whole world to hear. The ambient hissing, and what sounds to be labored breathing feels like the last gasps of a dying world. Then you hear it. The distorted arpeggiated synths as though you are in a cybernetic carnival, though this carnival doesn’t provide any sort of happiness. Rather it’s a cruel, and taunting sound. bloom provides another perspective on this same event, while evergreen was on the macro scale, bloom is on the micro scale, the individual. Who at first welcomes everything that’s new to him with such glee. The synths start off happy, a stark contrast to the previous track, but as the track progresses, the synths slowly begin to change… You can hear in the ambient noise, a woman’s vocals, and an oriental violin, but you only hear pieces of it. Just like you can just recall those moments of seeking something deeper, something more meaningful, yet the synths drown these brief moments of clarity out. At first they arpeggiate into some sort of glee, then they transform into harsh distorted screams, until…all that remains is what sounds like wind, which slowly transforms itself into an electronic noise. Then the track abruptly stops. Because let’s face it, we’re all trying to seek enlightenment through the very thing that causes us existential angst.

So with this masterfully created album that blends both the organic ambient textures, and synthetic electronic music; it’s truly a testament to solarein’s skill as a musician. The track is littered with little details that rewards the listener for paying attention. Like any great work of art–beauty is in the subtle–in the minor brushstroke that can separate the amateur from the master. Truly this album is something to be listened to over and over again.

solarein for capturing the existential angst of the digital era, undeniably deserves my recc.



Akira Yamaoka’s Silent Hill 2 Soundtrack and Why It’s Important for Independent Artists

Now for my first analysis of an album, I wanted to do something relatively different. I could have done any of Joy Division’s albums since they’re my favorite band, but I would be missing the mark. The fact of the matter is, they were at the right place, at the right time, with the precise set of perfect circumstances to create their music. For me to write praises about them would be too easy, and it would be antithetical to this blog to write about people who already have enough written about them. Especially since most of the blog articles written are about underground musicians who are trying to make it.

So, to set the stage why I am reviewing this album, we gotta go back in time. Back when I was a struggling make believe filmmaker. When I quit trying to make films because I kept encountering the same problem. That I, and everyone that I worked with, couldn’t make the art we wanted due to some unforeseen circumstances that we couldn’t overcome . The actress didn’t like the script and refused to be apart of it, the cameras were cheap and the image quality was poor, we didn’t have good enough audio recording equipment and we could barely hear dialogue over the background noise, we didn’t know what we were doing etc.

We all had grandiose ambitions, they wanted to be Meryl Streep or Marlon Brando; and I wanted to be Stanley Kubrick. I wanted so badly to make movies, that every film I watched I would take notes on: where the camera was placed, how the shot was framed, the lens filter they used, the mis-en-scène, where it was filmed, how the director got the performances he wanted etc. I wanted so badly to be an independent filmmaker. To have complete creative control over my art.

Yet my family was down to one car, and for a few weeks we had no car. I applied to every job where I lived and couldn’t even get a job in McDonalds. Reality forced me to abandon those ambitions, and with no other options I joined the Navy. The people I tried to work with stayed in school studying acting, and at this moment are still in school studying to be actors.

I didn’t do anything creative until two years into my navy career, when I found a guitar in one of our shops. I began playing it, and fell in love with it. I had complete control over it–strumming a few chords–I could create a new world. A world that was mine, a world filled with everything I liked, that I could escape to and seek shelter in.

Orson Welles’ had a great quote on this, “The absence of limitations is the enemy of art.” So when I was reading Akira Yamaoka’s interview, it struck a chord. When asked about what he thought about other video game composers, he said, “Unfortunately, there isn’t any game music I like. I do not have any favorite game music composer, either. It seems to me that many of the game music composers do their work as their side business. I cannot really have respect or a close feeling toward much of the game music I’ve heard. I suppose many of the video game music creators are really shallow… In other words, those people seem to be in the business just because their true dreams did not come true; person A might have wanted to do business in the music business, person B might have wanted to play in a band, but could not make enough money, etc.

“Of course, that is not true for all game music composers, but in any case I think there are many shallow creators who seem to do their work as a side business. Also, as to the music style itself, I don’t think there are many composers who are making really interesting music. The structure, the focus on ordinary music theory, regular instrument formations, etc… Everything like that seems very boring to me. The originality is often lacking and that’s very boring.”


This is from a man from an entirely different set of circumstances from most rockbands I admire. Most of them came out during the end of the punk scene, or were–as mentioned before–in the right place, the right time, with precise set of perfect circumstances. This was a guy who was making video game music in 2001. Back then to see video games as anything other than a kid’s toy, or some nerdy niche, was absurd. Now in hindsight, we can see that video games especially during that time were art, but the rest of the world didn’t.

When reading his interview, I couldn’t help but see myself in that quote “[Video game composers] seem to be in the business just because their true dreams did not come true; person A might have wanted to do business in the music business, person B might have wanted to play in a band, but could not make enough money, etc..” It could be that I’m solipsistic, but I believe that no matter what circumstance a creative person is in, a creative person is going to create. Yet no other video game soundtrack I had ever heard then sounded anything like Silent Hill 2.

Take the opening song Theme of Laura, when I first played the game I couldn’t believe my ears. Firstly that it was really well done rock song; and secondly, that was so moody, and introspective. It wasn’t the beginning of an epic fantasy adventure, or some leftover soundtrack from some action movie that was never used. It was different. It was unique. It was something that I could have heard in all those bands that I admired so much, it had a unique vision that could rival Kubrick’s. In other words, it was art.

So compare Theme of Laura to another video game soundtrack by another–not so blind–Japanese video game composer.


Does that invoke any emotions in you other than confusion? Does that sound like an artist trying their hardest to make the best possible music? Are they doing the best they can to express themselves? No, of course not. It sounded like somebody who was in the business of making video game music because their dreams failed.

Akira Yamaoka stated that his influences for this album was Angelo Badalementi, Trent Reznor, Depeche Mode, and Metallica. I bet you that if any of them heard any track from this album–even if it wasn’t their cup of tea–would still respect the music. There wouldn’t be anybody calling Akira Yamaoka a sell out or anything like that. In fact, take listening to a track like Black Fairy you can’t help but feel the intense sense of foreboding, and creepiness. Yet most horror music, even for films, at that time sounded quite like it.

The whole album is drenched in an introspective melancholy, the kind that is so beautiful and sincere that it almost becomes comforting–which is why sadness always seems so hard to get rid of. Until, like most things melancholy it devolves into a dark sinister sound that devours any trace of hope, and you’re left with nothing but pure misery. Yet there is still hope, like when people jumping off the Golden Gate bridge still hopes that someone reaches out to save them. For a video game album to convey such deep and rich emotions, is so bizarre. It’s an album that can stand on it’s own on the music scene. Even without the video game associated with it, with it’s tank controls, obtuse puzzles, and dated game mechanics.

So why is this album important to independent artists? Quite simple. Even if your dreams fail of you being the next Marlon Brando, David Bowie, Ernest Hemingway, or Stanley Kubrick; it doesn’t mean that your dreams are over. It just means that you have to adapt. And by adapt, I don’t mean join the music industry because you know how to make music–what I mean by adapt is to work your hardest to make the best music you possibly can. To make it yours, and for your vision to shine. Even in a field of video game composers, in an industry people don’t even consider art, Akira Yamaoka created a timeless masterpiece that people will still listen to 50 years later.

Don’t stay fixated on one idea of what it means to “make it.” Stay fixated on one thing and one thing only. To make art, and music that is yours, and yours alone. And no matter what circumstance you find yourself in, stay true to yourself.

Tristan Welch: 40 Hours


We live fragmented lives. Everybody knows this, but few understand it. We’ve become atomized individuals, where when we punch the clock our whole humanity becomes nothing more than electrical impulses that can be displayed on an excel spreadsheet. Our lives become segmented parts of a clock: where an 1 hour is spent getting ready for work, 45 minutes to commute to work,  8 hours is work, 2 hours is spent watching TV, 45 minutes at a gym, 1 hour for dinner, 3 hours on video games/movies/youtube/whatever, 30 minutes for a shower–go to bed and then repeat.

Yet we aren’t clocks, we aren’t piano keys, we’re human beings, and as human beings we need something greater. We all know this. Yet time is money, and whether you want to be a clock or not–the choice isn’t yours to make–like sheep navigating the maze of an abattoir, you’re going to end up in the same destination regardless of whether you want to or not.

So with Tristan Welch’s 40 hours paints a clear vivid picture of what it means to be an atomized individual in today’s corporatocracy. Starting with Monday you can feel the ticking of the clock as he plucks away on his delayed/reverbed out guitar. The repetition feels both weary as though you stayed up too late trying to squeeze the last bit of joy out of the weekend, and dehumanizing like the march of the proles in Fritz Lang’s Metropolis.


You can feel every sensation of a Monday on this track. The synth in the distant background has a droning effect, like the sun coming in through the window pane of a car–that at first feels pleasant–then as the commute drags on, it gets slightly hotter in the car, slightly more uncomfortable. Then the distorted guitars began to pluck away like guitar from the beginning but with it’s distortion takes on a more sinister quality. As you drive up to the building you work at, it takes on a menacing quality, it becomes the main antagonist of this song. It’s a building that seems all so powerful, and oh so omnipotent–yet to anybody else it’s just a regular building that has no special significance. But you know what it is. You know what it represents to you.

The next track Tuesday starts slowly with it’s guitar swells, like the turning of a rusted gear. With the realization that–no, there is no avoiding it–you’re stuck in the 40 hour work week, and it’s only Tuesday. Then the choir synth begins to sing it’s haunting song, like the call of a siren to a sailor out to sea. The saxophone sounding like something out of a noir film, continues this siren’s call of a romance once lost. Perhaps it was a beautiful woman–whose name you can’t recall–you met at a bar after a long shift at work, and she led you on a night of spontaneous adventures. Her spontaneity, freedom, personality, and humanity made her even more beautiful as though she existed outside of time. But that’s in the past now–nothing more than a day dream–a recollection of your own self. For now you are not yourself, you’re employee number 55265.

Then Wednesday comes around. It’s Hump day, yet the glass is both half full and half empty. The guitar plucks like the tick of a clock, then synths swirl around in a malaise, and then it happens. High pitched keys begin to play almost out of sync, it’s the beginning of the end. It’s the hope that it will be over, it’s the triumph of the human spirit over the regimented nature of our lives. Where time and space compress, and the 15 minutes before you can go home can feel like an eternity. Now it’s Thursday, it’s almost over. The plucking of the strings is now being replaced with the strumming of a chord, slowly you feel a sense of victory. So when the distorted guitars return from Monday it’s no longer the menacing presence it once was, but more like the siren of an ambulance going down the street. It isn’t over, but at least now you have the upperhand.

So when Friday comes along there is no ticking of the clock, it’s almost over, the guitar is heavily delayed with a sense of giddy anticipation like the last day of school before summer break. The saxophone swells up, as you realize that the romance you fantasized about on Tuesday can actually take shape. Maybe it will be with that mysterious woman or maybe some new adventure with some new person. Or maybe you can just finally be yourself. Exert your own individuality, even though it’s two days, it’s YOUR OWN TWO DAYS. It’s something that’s yours and entirely yours, something that can’t be put into an excel spreadsheet, something that can’t be quantified. Then at the end it all crashes down, as your boss tells you that you need to come into work for the weekend.

With Overtime Tristan Welch plays a guitar that is both dispirited, and burdened. The promises of Friday are gone. Your job took everything you had, and everything you could have had for that weekend. All the romantic notions dashed before your eyes. The synth choir sings a haunting melody that is no siren’s call. Instead it’s the choir of dead souls singing a eulogy of everything that was, and could have been. Tristan Welch’s 40 Hours ends on an even bleaker note. Minimum Wage begins the same plucking of the guitar, as time continues on, with a melancholy realization that the most precious thing to you–your time–is only worth the minimum amount of dollars that the corporation is forced to pay you by state law. Even the choir of dead souls seem weak now, as the distorted growl of the guitar–the building you work at–drowns everything out. IT still has the finally say in your life, IT is the one that dictates what your time and life is worth. Then at the end you hear the faint echoes of a guitar softly playing, it’s that part of you that won’t give up, it’s the part of the human spirit that still shines through no matter what you go through. It’s the last glimmer of hope, and that hope is yours and yours alone.

Tristan Welch’s 40 Hours is an excellent album. Beautifully constructed, and so sympathetic to the average working Joe, that it can’t but be admired. Tristan Welch who is of himself an inspirational person, who battled addiction and homelessness, worked his way up from jailhouse, to doing grunt work at a funeral home, to eventually become a license funeral director and embalmer. If anybody has a story to tell, it would be this man, and this album.

For the depth of emotion, sympathy, and sincerity. I give this album my full recc.



Otto Rank, a psychoanalyst, wrote a book called The Trauma of Birth basically because of the intense violent, and sudden separation of our Mother; the lingering effects of birth is one of the underlying reasons for our anxieties, neurosis, and defects. If we take Collection of Dead Soul’s album’s name “CAPITALISM IS PUNISHMENT FOR BIRTH,” it suggests a larger more universal experience, and whose sonic landscape paints a darker image of our current times than most albums I’ve listened to for awhile.

So now I’ve dug myself into a hole and now I have to explain how an electronic ambient album relates to both being born, and the socio-political issues we face during our times– so allow me to elaborate. Collection of Dead Soul’s bio states, “Experimental soundscapes made while homeless and traveling across America. Made on an iPad in an effort to keep ahold of my sanity.” So with that bio, and my own personal experiences; it’s hard not to see the pain of a someone going through economic struggles. If you want an honest, insightful look into what it was like in the 21st century–of what it meant to hold up certain ideals and only to see them dashed before your very eyes–this would be the album to listen to.

COMING FOR YOU if we were going by psychoanalytic terms would be the period in the womb. The best way to describe the soundscape of this track, is to imagine holding a seashell to your ear, but instead of hearing your pulse or blood vessels pumping, you hear electronic noises. The electronic hum of the TV promising you one thing, and then reality giving you another. Every now and then you hear glitches, distortion, glimpses into the real world that it is not like what the TV tells you it is. Yet at the same time it’s strangely comforting. Even when technology advances and we’re given access to the internet–to the free flow of information–we all tend to seek out things that comfort us.

The next song, following this psychoanalytic approach would be the actual birth. THE CHILD has an atonal synth landscape, and starting out the beat is less a drum than an electronic glitch that seems to be muffled when covered by some organic ooze. An occasional drum beat takes over the track, but it’s short lived, like the stamping out of any trace of humanity by something far less than human. It’s this synthesis of electronic and organic elements that really sets up the creepiness of this track; with it’s sterile feel,  and frantic drumming. Yet the trauma isn’t so much any synth, drumbeat, or sound from the track–as it is the combination of all these elements that create a traumatic environment. The trauma being this electronic world we live in.


This scene in The Matrix does a really good job of illustrating the thematic elements of what I mean by this track. Cypher knows that everything he desires is an illusion. It’s a system of control–yet he still wants to be apart of it. Likewise when we realize the false promises given to us by media, or find out that the things we held dear turned out to be false–what do we do? We go right back to it. Listen to music that makes us good, watch movies that make us feel good, go on internet forums that validate our own opinions etc. It’s all the same we go straight back into that electronic womb.

So the situation sounds kind of dire right? Well Collection of Dead Soul’s isn’t done just yet. One of the most frightening and intimidating tracks on CAPITALISM IS PUNISHMENT FOR BIRTH is THE CHILD’S DREAMS. The track starts off with a sinister electronic ambience that’s almost overwhelming, like an electronic black mass. Then you hear the electronic drum beats, beating almost like you’re part of some tribal ritual.

Carl Jung wrote extensively on the interpretation of dreams and religious symbolism. Jung saw the collective unconscious as a helper, to help someone overcome some struggle in their lives, that humanity collectively as a whole had experienced. Here in THE CHILD’S DREAMS , there is only the electronic unconscious. This consciousness is no helper. It’s an atomizer of individuals. Where all your conscious thoughts are typed into a URL, which are used for companies to sell you something you don’t need. It’s a cycle of consumerism; in which a corporation creates a desire within someone using media, make that person desire it so much that they sell their identity to become an anonymous individual for corporation X, pay them only enough to survive, and then give them the opiate drip of media which causes them in turn to desire to consume. It’s a cycle that never ends. God isn’t dead, he’s just been digitized. Instead of religious traditions, we have consumerist traditions. Instead of baptism we have psychiatry, instead of a rite of passage we have your first car, instead of visions we have Joe Rogan’s DMT, instead of life we have work, and instead of death we have debt.

Yet this album isn’t without hope. THE STRUGGLE OF SURVIVAL can be seen as a happy track. It’s the rebellion against this environment we find ourselves in; the synths are so sharp but yet you can’t feel an intense feeling of catharsis. It’s abrasive yet at the same time, uplifting. Like when you win in a fight and you limp away with a bloody nose. THE STRUGGLE OF SURVIVAL is by no means a victory march, but it is the closest we can get to a victory, and any victory no matter how small is a victory nevertheless. Yet with each class of the cymbal, you can only take so many blows, until finally you succumb. The once abrasive rebellious synths descend into a quiet background noise, as the electronic distortion over takes the track, then we surrender in defeat.

The next track can only be truly seen as heartbreaking. DREAMS DESTROYED is more reflective than the prior tracks. This track could be seen as adulthood, and it’s only in adulthood can we see with clear eyes that what we once believed to be obtainable–to be unobtainable. The synths in this track reminds me of the mobiles above a child’s crib, that plays lullabies, and rocket ships circle around causing the baby to fall into a trance and then sleep. Yet as everything else in this album, it’s shrill abrasive, yet it’s sincere. As though the human element wasn’t a factor in this electronic world we live in. As the uplifting, sincere, synths play this uplifting melody in the track it’s only decimated by the distorted ambient noises. Like a baby being smothered to death in it’s crib. It’s with this that we really see–that with all of our desires being pre-programmed into us–that they’re impossible to obtain. We all cherished those dreams as much as we cherished a child, and yet it’s taken from us. And as any parent who lost a child can tell you, nothing hurts more than the loss of your own child.

THE BROKEN YEARS can be seen as this album’s version of “the golden years.” Where people in their old age reminiscence about their youth, and all the joy and happiness they had. Yet as the name entails it’s not so much golden as it is broken. The track is the happiest, and most accessible of all tracks on CAPITALISM IS PUNISHMENT FOR BIRTH. It’s almost like a dance song, but it just sounds broken. Like an EDM producer playing a set where all the music is correct, but the equipment is all wrong, the machines are sparking up, and are catching on fire. It’s as though the golden years in this album aren’t a source of happiness, but that of regret. Of things that could have been but never were. Yes there was happiness in the moment way back then, but at the present that happiness is gone–all that remains is regret. And that regret changes the way you perceive that happiness you had in the past, and you see the happiness for what it was–broken. For we’re not cogs in a machine, we’re human beings. And as human beings we weren’t meant to be in this digitized world, yet here we are.

Collection of Dead Soul’s CAPITALISM IS PUNISHMENT FOR BIRTH  is a very emotional album. One that I’d suggest anybody listen to. It’s abrasiveness, harshness, and even expressions of the human will is the perfect album to showcase the 21st Century man’s plight. Where the things he consumes starves him, so he consumes more of the things that cause him to starve.

For it’s incredible sound and unique perspective I give this album my recc.

Cyparissus: faun


Have you ever gone out to a movie with friends, and one of your asshole friends says, “Yeah it was good…but the book was so much better!” Usually they say that just to gain brownie points among his/her friends to show how “They’re the intellectual of the group.” It’s annoying yeah, but it does contain some valid points.

The reason the book is always better than the movie, is because the book allows for your own imagination to play out the story. You breathe life into each page you read, you create the world the characters inhabit, and the author merely provides the plot.

I say all of this in review of this album, because Cyparissus’ faun does the exact same thing but with music. Cyparissus creates a sonic playground for your mind to wonder and play in. It’s an album to sit down after a long day of work, and to work on that novel you’ve always dreamed on writing. You can’t just listen to one song, like how you can’t have Harry Potter just be about a kid with a thunderbolt scar on his forehead. This is an album that creates a world and atmosphere and that you must sit down and listen to all the way through.

deer’s face in front of portal, to the wind is the poison of the grass really sets the stage and the tone for the rest of the album. It’s a desolate and lonely sound. It’s a cloudy, windy, cold, rainy day, and you’re soaked to the skin. The pulsating pads and piercing ambient noises makes you feel like you’re the only person on earth.

The whole album really feels like the soundtrack to some Scandinavian film that has never been made. Ingmar Bergman’s films as far as I can recall, never really had a soundtrack (or if his did they usually were instruments that were played on scene, I can’t remember). But if his films did have a soundtrack it would be this album.

By the time the album reaches tick your mind begins to play tricks on you. There’s a condition called, musical ear syndrome. Where essentially you hear music in places where there isn’t any music, for example you hear the A/C and you start hearing an orchestra. I first thought I was imagining things, and then I jrealized that this track has such subtle sounds that on repeat listen, you can hear the subtle changes in pitches and tones. It takes a really delicate hand to be able to craft something so nuanced, and subtle. That and the overall semi lo-fi experience of the track creates a unique sound that I haven’t heard done that well in awhile.

bloodtype introduces such a change in tone, that instead of a wall of sound it feels more like a waterfall of sound. It stands out not for the fact it’s loud–quite the contrary–it’s actually not that loud at all, it’s that the rest of the album is just so quiet. A juxtaposition like that always highlights that which preceded it. In this case the quietness of the album before really highlights the introspection, and the introspection that as a result created that imaginary playground for you to play in.

Next up we have the longest, and shortest tracks. gelid which means icy cold, and colorplate. Both of these tracks take on a lot more sinister of a quality. Where before the album sounded isolated, introspective, and lonely; this part of the album feels like an invasion of that loneliness. As though you were alone for a very long time and finally allowed someone into your life, only for them to fuck you over and betray you. Which begs the question to a creative person: is it worth allowing other people into your the world you’ve created? Which is a question which kind of gets addressed in the last two songs.

The last two songs song dytikos and hold you like a sepulchre answers these questions. dytikos begins with a drum, the type of drum that’s in any movie signifying the call to action. It maintains the sinister quality of the prior tracks, and with it’s call to action doesn’t bode well, and we get hints of what kind of action that is required with this track in hold you like a selpulchre; selpulchre being, “a small room or monument, cut in rock or built of stone, in which a dead person is laid or buried.” And with it’s sad melancholy sound ends in a mysterious note. The album ends with that type of ending that in a movie, would make people pour over each frame trying to figure out the “true ending” and to not be left on a cliffhanger. And to the question of, whether it’s worth allowing other people into our own world we’ve created, it’s something that you’ll have to figure out for yourself. For we couldn’t ask ourselves these types of questions if Cyparissus didn’t invite us into their world, but at the same time, the album leaves us hanging wanting for more.

For an album, an imaginative playground, and overall world to inhabit. I give this album my recc



Whettman Chelmets: Giant Eyes and Infant Steps


I remember the first time I played The Legend of Zelda: Ocarina of Time. Being in the Kokiri Forest, everything seemed normal, seemed like a regular game. And then it happened.

You entered the Great Deku Tree’s mouth and was in another world. A far more ancient, frightening, and strange place. I felt on edge, and yet I was discovering something new.

The same thing can apply to Giant Eyes and Infant steps. Take away the music from the Great Deku Tree–and you’re just inside a tree–all the emotions and sensations previously mentioned wouldn’t have existed. Except instead of entering the mouth of the Great Deku Tree–it’s parenthood.

With the beginning of this album with Interruptus there’s an incredible tangible foreboding sense of doom. As though the black shapes you see when you have sleep paralysis are suddenly in your room. It’s unknown, intangible, and entirely frightening. And then it stops. And as a listener just because it stops doesn’t mean the fear is over. It just means that the black shape is gone, but it doesn’t mean it won’t come back.

With Dada the panning arpeggios makes it feels like the loss of control. And as anybody, who breathes air can tell you, there’s nothing worse than the lack of control. Then the orchestral synths rise up into an existential angst, while still the arpeggiated synth whirls around your headphones. Until they don’t. Then all you’re left with is the thudding a drum, like your heart beating deep in your chest, and the animal like growl of a synth. Which creates such a foreboding and tense atmosphere.

TFW it’s 400 am and you’ve been up 3 times already sounds like pain. And I don’t mean it sounds painful to listen to. The synths sizzle, as though you’re lying on a frying pan. The guitars are either playing the kind of music that you’d hear in a western after someone is wondering through the desert all day, or is so distorted, so fast, and distant it feels like every nerve is on fire. And as someone who has worked 20-30 hour days, there’s no worst feeling then not having sleep. Where every cell is screaming out in pain, on why you are still awake. This song captures that feeling perfectly.

MRW I drop the passie in the dark. Has the same feeling TFW it’s 400am, the beginning glitches feel like a mistake. Feel like something has gone wrong. The distant guitar has an almost lullaby like quality to it, yet the ambient noise hisses in the background. There isn’t going to be any sleep here.

Giant Eyes and Infant Steps is the less chaotic, and less painful song. It’s a song that isn’t out of control, that isn’t fearful of the unknown, and the sinister hiss in the beginning has transformed from a lion to a bobcat. Still a threat but no longer the great danger that it was. In fact it’s almost under control.

Finally the album ends with She says Dada. The sound that was so chaotic before, and yet is still chaotic forms into a melody. That melody which is soothing, the synths no longer are threatening in fact they whimper away. The chaos isn’t something to be feared because it’s forming into something tangible, something coherent something that is to be understood. And the last part of the song there are only the half audible words, followed by the soothing sound of a pad.

The chaos that seemed to overwhelm and frighten, is now understandable, you’re now able to put words to that shapeless darkness, you’re able to call it out by name and now it doesn’t seem all that bad.

David Lynch on his first movie Eraserhead was said to spend years on just sound design. To capture all the anxieties and frustrations of being a parent, and this was a guy who has an incredible ability to frame a shot. Who is probably one of the greatest visual filmmakers, and the fact sound was such an important tool to use to illustrate parenthood is why this album is such a good album.

The fact that I can write about such complex emotions on songs that have no lyrics, no traditional song structure, is a testament to the craft that Whettman Chelmets has committed himself to. As somebody who isn’t a parent I immediately understand all the emotions that are going on, because as obtuse, abrasive and foreign the album may seem to be–the emotions expressed on it are universal.

For creating such a great landscape I give this album a recc