Unable to breathe, I pick myself up from the ground. The scenery, hazy and blurred, your face a monstrous vision before me. I could only focus on catching my breath - on the constriction of my airways. Sweat began to bead down my neck, flowing from my forehead into my eyes and unto my heaving chest. As my breathing becomes more labored, you stand before me, mocking me and triumphant in your self righteousness. I would not admit you were right, you were not, and I stood steadfast in that belief. My current state was the proof of your falsehood - my martyrdom would be your downfall. While you watched me struggle for life, you stood guffawing and slack-jawed, unable to comprehend your consequences.
Alaskas - gorgeous, swirling drone soundscapes that are a bit like breeathing after struggling for air. Composed of ascending vocal loops that climb ivy-esquely over layers of exquisting vocal layers, the tracks gloriously build - reaching like towering structures into the sky.
“Goodbye,” I muttered over the loud, droning noises. Drowned out by all the useless sound around me, I took advantage of the opportunity to bid everyone adieu. Unable to bring myself to speak any louder, I used what I could around me to mask the sadness in the air. I had grown tired of the charade - exhausted from pretending that I could smile through it all. Though the pain grew too unbearable for me to carry alone, I acted as if nothing would ever phase me. My shoulders grew hunched and my neck sprained. I became your very own private Atlas - hoisting all of troubles for every one to behold. These problems were like seeds slowly growing, manifesting behind my shining eyes. Unable to sow them alone, I decided to take leave as quickly as I could. I wanted resolution, closure, and solitary places - a place just for one.
Places (tumblr): a lo-fi, minimal foray into the quiet places of your mind. Slowly breathing -isolated contemplation - it creeps up and stalls ever so gently. Hushed, whispered voices exhale while percussion pounds like a tempered throbbing ache. Muted minstrel exiguously anguished.
On this day, there are very few things I can think of that I’m thankful for. For the past week or so, I’ve been very glum and down. In my life, there are a small number of things that can constantly make me smile through my ennui. I tell these people in my life, on a regular basis, how much they mean to me. But I’ve only told Cecil once how much his music means to me.
I want to take this opportunity to say how thankful I am for your music. Your constant ability to make me smile is unparalleled to anything I’ve ever had the pleasure of listening to in all my years upon this earth. This year, I’m thankful for you.
Over thousands of miles of way, I gave you my heart over fiber optic lines. I eagerly awaited the notification of your arrival daily - scheduling my day around when I got to meet you digitally again. Rising extremely early just to maximize our time, we would often talk about nothing for hours. When sleep finally battered our bodies, we had no choice but to succumb. Each day the cycle would begin, waking up after very little sleep in hopes of conversation, sleeping only when it was completely necessary. We came to know each other in this way, of our quirks and hang-ups, our voices and psychical selves, of a love so strong that it would break our hearts to say good night every day. In the new age of a dawning digital world, we had a grandeur love affair complimented only by our visitation.
“Telnet Erotika” is the newest Vektordrum EP under the pseudonym/persona of VEKTROID. Deciding to toy with the “chillwave” movement and reform it into a throwback to classic computer culture, it is an immensely lo-fi, beat-tastic body of work.
New to the city, I decided to enlist you as my guide. We had stayed out for what seemed like an eternity, watching the sky change colors before our very eyes. The wind had changed from a friendly, warm breeze that tickled my flesh into a stinging, bitter sinister fiend. Noticing my discomfort, you wrapped your arms around me in order to ensure that I was comfortable once again. You would take my hand in yours, hulking and calloused, and pointed out to me the things I had not seen before. I had surveyed the unfamiliar desert before me, staring at the vacant land, the twisted trees, the dry, cracked earth. As you kissed my lips in the early hours of dusk, all that seemed like a memory; the kaleidoscopic sky changed hues once again.
Saldu’s “So Far Away” starts off as a whale song; a cosmically ascending tune that languidly gives way to post rock tendencies. The tracks on “Moon Whale” range from somewhat more chill to grandeur - magnificent and melancholic. Both grand and simplistic, hushed and bombastic - like a sweet lullaby interrupted by a magniloquent melody - halfway lulled into a stupor.
I stood at the edge of the the world waiting for it to end. My aching neck strained, from looking up at the void in the sky. My eyes, aching and zippered, squinted so hard they became lost in my face. As I waited for a sign, a resounding, thunderous boom, my heart pattered violently. At that moment, I regained my focus, my composure, my desire to remain. It was then that I felt your hand on my shoulder, strong and claw-like - clutching with all your might. Exhaling, I raised my arms above my head… An onslaught of welcome typhoonesque termination that would forever remain in my memory.
David Kanaga’s “Flower Walk” EP is wonderful, experimental blippy pop at its very essence. Synths bleep and give warning of great pop crescendos then fade lovingly, exiting at just the right moment. Serene, warm loops (most from Stravinsky’s “Petrushka”) envelop the song ever so perfectly, never giving away the momentum. It all comes to a fluttering, undulating close - memorable and amiable.
Searching desperately for answers, I stared longingly at your face. Not that long ago, you had invited me, playfully, to take ownership of your heart. With a glimmer in your eye, you indicated that it was acceptable for me to grasp, cradle, or consume it. We would spend hours reflecting upon things that would only be considered romantic between the two of us. Every hint of interest, every superlative and praise, I would become more enamored with your quirks. Because of my tainted and confused mind, I could not understand you as clearly as other people might have. Anything remotely positive you presented to me, I merely acknowledged as niceties. I was on a mission to prove to myself that someone like you could not adore someone like me. I wore my heart on my sleeve for all to see yet you seemed to overlook it. How desperately I wanted your approval, your laughter, and your warm embrace - answers. Desolate and despairing devotee.
On that warm summer day, after a torrential rainfall the night before, the story was about to end. My slumping figure was obscured by a partition yet I could see everything clearly. I gripped my hands tightly as I nervously and anxiously awaited the outcome. Would I get the result I so badly desired or would something go terribly wrong? You, the brilliant and gorgeous tiger, surveying and sizing up your competition, was the last hope I held on to. Over the past year, I nursed you back to health, to become the lustrous figure that you once were. And now, here we are, you battling upon those sacred grounds, to avenge the terror he once started. While I feel my mind should be at ease, it is restless and clouded, and I cannot see any future past what I see now. We were all united, once again, under the shroud of a doomed reunion.
The Townhouses’ latest track, “Fine”, beats quietly like raindrops falling on a warm day. There are sounds reminiscent to wind chimes, looping quite loving and tenderly. About halfway, it all comes to a quiet stop - distorted drums pick up the pace - like heart thumping in excitement. The meditation remains, never once losing its intention. It is dreamy and humble while maintaining a gentle yet focused resolve. Gorgeous.
♫ D/l The Townhouses - “Fine” or get the 2 track ep at bandcamp.
You grit and gnash your teeth with anger that brews from deep within. Unable to retain your composure, you lash out at everything you see before you. Those wielding the sharpened knives were the first to feel your brutality. I could only watch in sheer awe as you began to charge your way through the mob before you. Confident that they could take you on, they began to taunt and holler. This angered you more than the sight of them - those brutes covered in scars. As you become colored a crimson red, the whites of their eyes became luminescent. Garlanded in guts and gore, you tore through those before you, as if you were plowing through weeds in a pasture. My knees buckled, causing me to fall to the maroon red ground before me. Surveying the mayhem, I couldn’t help but laugh manically. Was I witnessing a nightmare or was this the saving grace I so desperately sought? All this in the name of companionship and adoration - a mulierose, maddened mercenary.
It all came to a close as quickly as it began. We could not look at each other, acknowledging a sort of bittersweet defeat. Had we succumbed any further, we would have been lost forever. Our hearts, as fragile and feeble as they were, were bursting with encouragement and anticipation. Would we begin to mourn the loss, the closing of a chapter, or would we celebrate the future ahead of us? As we held on to one another, bodies flushed with fever, we smiled in unison. This was not the calamity they warned us about. Instead, it was the renewal of a clandestine love - a quiet and trailing emotion that was growing from the ground up.
I receive two different kinds of emails: those with volumes of information and those that are fairly cryptic. The other day, I received an email in the latter category with just images and an mp3. I was immediately intrigued, albeit somewhat hesitant. Upon listening, I fell in love with the soft guitar strumming and the nearly whispered yet soaring vocals. It maintains a satiny almost cozy feeling, one that is both warm and cold, that left me feeling goose-fleshed. Dark, mysterious and intriguing - like a masked bard singing in the darkest hour of night.
Download “03” here. If you’re interested in more, check out the image below.
Everything I had witnessed was too great for my fragile countenance to handle. I was not prepared for the horrors before me, those things I would behold would break me: monstrosities, apparitions, darkened giants - those apostles from the darkest depths of the worlds. At that moment, I became branded, a sacrifice for all those spectators and hungry bystanders. They would clack their teeth in excitement, licking their lips, and wringing their hands together in pure ecstasy. When the clamor seemed to be dying down, I would become yours, forever tarnished and ruined. No longer could I cling on to the past, to the once strong and brave girl that I was. As your lips touched mine, I became something else. Lost in a world of incoherency, daydreams, and child like blabber. And if I had anything I wanted to retain, to hold in memory of what we once were, it was to be thrown away, far from my damaged and deteriorating mind.
RxRy’s work never ceases to amaze me. There’s a quiet beauty, a shy gorgeousness in the many lush layers of the songs. While sounds may loop and almost drone, they undulate courageously. Even behind the soft distortion, it borders on transcendental - making you lose your self, slowly, in the process.
We sat engulfed in the darkness for sometime. Our warm breath seemed to blanket our bodies, causing it to become scaled and goose fleshed. In the night, our hands became our eyes, feeling their way around each other to distinguish and define who we truly were. I would claw and bite, feeling your skin in my mouth, hoping to taste your true essence. If I had caused you to break, I would not have objected, rather, I secretly wished for a crackling, a fissure in your skin. You would prod and pull at me, wanting to overtake me. Afraid of you discovering my true identity, I would shy away at your touch every so often. As you lovingly placed your ear to my chest, my heart would pound manically. And when you smiled, so knowingly and accepting, the beat would slow an steady. Loved and accepted. Redeemed.
Jaded Hipster Choir’s upcoming EP, “Kodama,” is heavily inspired by Hayao Miyazaki and Studio Ghibli films. “Benevolence” plays out like a redemption song at dusk. It builds to a pulsating climax, like a heart beat reflecting on an action. There are certain Stravinsky-esque odes, almost like a “Rite of Spring” nod scattered throughout. It is humble and reflective, ascending and descending, timid yet accepting - like a moment of discovery.
“Kodama” will be released on Wonder Beard Tapes sometime in Dec/January. In the meantime, you can download the single at bandcamp.
That night, everything seemed to disappear. The world around us ceased to exist as time slowly faded away. You, nearly convulsing, rolled your eyes far back into your head, your eyelids shutting like blinds. Throwing your head back, you held your mouth agape, as if you were being overtaken by another spirit. I tried to grasp your hand tightly, in fear of losing you to your current state. Sweat began to drip down your neck as your body began to sway. You became transformed, smiling and carefree, almost reborn into something I had not seen before. When you finally came to, you grinned widely. I cackled and cooed as I enjoyed the spectacle you graciously allowed me to see.
Bikini’s “ACheerlaeder”, from their latest RIPJDS EP, has been making the blog rounds for a while now and I am not immune to the contagious beats. It is pulsating, lovely, jubilant, and infectious. Gripping you by the hand as the layered vocals charmingly glide around with memorable synth hooks, it possess you with an urge to just move your body.
RIPJDS is out now digitally on itunes and as a physical release on November 23 through Lefse Records. Pre-order it here.
You looked at me with wounded eyes - battered and bruised pupils wavered lovingly behind a cloud of tears. I had no choice but to look away or I would become lost, drowning in a sea of sorrow that you crafted. If I allowed myself a glimpse, I would’ve lost my form; my hardened exterior would have melted. Too headstrong, too stubborn, I could not lose the fire that burned within - your tears would have not put out my fire. All I wanted was to grip you tightly, to tell you that everything would be alright. Crumbling, I could not do so. Turning my back to your red face, your quivering shoulders, your downtrodden eyes, I walked away slowly, hoping you would not yell for me to return.
Unouomedude’s remix of Total Warr’s “I Don’t Need Your Friendship” hits me hard in the heart today. A bittersweet, nearly jubilant remix of what could be potential heartache. Love.
My eyes widened as my heart sank to the very depths below me. Those words uttered, a stabbing betrayal. Had I not opened up my heart to you in the fashion I did, I would not have been wounded so deeply. As I tried to stitch up the wound, and make sense of what was occurring, I felt every inch of me go numb. I could no longer tell if I was breathing, if I was seeing, or if I was feeling this surgery I would have to perform on myself. I desperately wanted to erase the instance in my mind, to free myself from this duplicitous candor.
Syrup Dreams - ambient,drone for a morose Monday - perfect for working you into a comatose state. Download the EP at tumblr.
My eyes would not shut until you had made your return. The door would slowly creak, the floorboards moaned, and the house sighed, finally settling in comfort. I would feel the breath escape from my lungs - floating on a content breeze. You would kiss my nose, my forehead, and my chin in hopes of shaking sleep from my being. Little did you know, this nightly ritual was playtime for me. I would feign sleep, anxiously awaiting this playful routine. Every evening you became mine, giving your heart and yourself to me in a way only we could share. As my moon-eyed smile became clear, you would cradle my face in your hands - like a crescent moon. Like the reflection in a pond, you would mimic my sentiments.
Youth Sports’ track, “Trees”, twinkles like the moonlit sky. Star-kissed synths, hazy boy/girl vocals, and reflective drum machines all waver like twilight. Nighttime, shadowed clandestine pop. And they danced by the light of the moon.
The day came to a creeping close and it was then time for us to make our way home. We decided to walk together, to keep each other company and maybe, along the way, stop for a libation to warm our chilled bones. While walking among the deserted buildings, the friendly, bowing trees, we began to discuss everything tucked away in the crevices of our brain. Looking up into the pitch black sky, we noticed we had company - small, gentle flakes of snow began to fall upon our shoulders, our cheeks, and our heads. You commented how romantic it was and I laughed, acknowledging the truth in the statement.
This managed to get buried among countless emails this week; after reaching out to them on Monday, I graciously received an mp3 of “Penny” from Brooklyn’s Snowmine. Snowmine creates sunny, almost feel good music in the vein of Fleet Foxes, Lord Huron, or We Are Trees. There are elements of the EP that are highly orchestral and lush, with an emphasis on soaring melodies and jangling guitars. There are generous amounts of singing strings, pounding percussion, and giddy guitar work. Snowy, billowing vocals avalanche with gentle orchestration.
A blanket of white, a lustrous sheen. Everywhere I look is albescent; a chalky frost has consumed my surroundings. Even the sky is not safe argentine accents; a constant stream of flurries engulf the already canescent ground. Escaping the snow storm is taxing - I struggle to find shelter from the wintry winds.
Feast of Violet’s “Botany Charm” EP is all at once warm and frosty, glowing and dark, confident and unassuming. There are nectarous tracks which seem to illuminate a silky luster while drum machines patter soft and furiously - All this leading up to a darker, sub-aquatic finale. Lustrous and engaging.