Showing posts with label atmosphere. Show all posts
Showing posts with label atmosphere. Show all posts

Thursday, 7 September 2023

STATIKA — SILENTLY RUNNING

⌾ LISTEN TO SILENTLY RUNNING BY STATIKA ⌾

This track, says its creator (the Sweden-based producer, statika), was inspired by late night walks. You can tell. There's the sense that the world is both ending and full of potential all at once in 'silently running', a stretched-out looming feel that has you caught in the air, outside looking in, the cool night wrapped around you. The textures throughout, gleaming as they are gritty, call to mind glowing streetlights and the distant weighted gravel hum of sporadic city traffic.

"I used to make ambient pieces by slowing down tapes with cassette records, but I no longer have them with me," says statika, "so I attempted to replicate the process with a computer." The result sounds analogue enough, right down to the white noise that bookends track's distorted plumes of sound. We have a piece of ambient music here that brims with as much nocturnal atmosphere as it does summon the nostalgia-tinged sonic aesthetics of vaporwave, encapsulating a stopped-in-time emotion of an early-hours walk.


  • 🔔 Listen to more moody ambient music from statika over on their SoundCloud.

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Wednesday, 22 July 2020

SIM FANE — SOME SAY

⌾ LISTEN TO SIM FANE, SOME SAY ⌾

Though 'Some Say' could be quite easily seen as "future bass" and nothing more, it's the variation, the intense colours and the attention to the spaces between sounds in Netherlands producer Sim Fane's track that give it the power to not just occupy a space, but create its very own atmosphere. While it does build up with hyperactive pitch shifted vocals and snapping handclaps, and drops into a glooping tumble of frenzied piercing synth and soft staccato chords, Sim Fane offers up much more than a well-versed formula of builds 'n' drops.

Post-drop, the beat shifts into a frenzy of footwork-flavoured kicks, a sudden jet engine of propulsion that not only provides a boost, but also helps break up the track into a kinetic series of vignettes. Later, listeners await the final drop, but instead — after the sub-bass rumble, the scattering of bleeps and crashes promising one last popping refrain — the track falls away into a dreamy coda of fuzzed out keys, the explosive energy that was there depleted as the ship is cast adrift through a space-scape, nebulae and distant galaxies splashed on the void like abstract art.


  • 🔔 'Some Say' is taken from Sim Fane's Where She Lived EP. You can download and/or stream the whole thing over on Bandcamp.

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Saturday, 12 September 2015

CAPCHII – SOMETHING

Here is a nice new bit of music from a new musicmaker called Capchii. They are ostensibly from Tokyo – there's no way to verify that, of course, so let's just go with it. Tokoyo-based musicmaker or let's say producer called Capchii. The katakana given on SoundCloud for the name is カプチー, which I'm presuming is just a shortened form of カプチーノ which is the katakana for cappuccino. Coffee, especially in its foamier incarnation as denoted here, has a homely, cosmopolitan feel about it, and connotes being something like fluidly urban. Truncate cappuccino to Capchii and you add an extra dimension of cuteness – fitting for someone whose Twitter bio says "I like bass and cute music."

But aside from these thoughts spilling without much care onto this keyboard and typing these words, the morsel of music that has been created by this coffee-themed producer for a lil spotlight today is called 'Something'.

Something! Pulsing kicks drive this along throughout its duration, a bassy beat also featuring a combined snare-handclap that sounds like a watermelon being smashed, or maybe a heavy hardback book bellyflopping into a puddle, specifically a puddle glittering in the wet sunlight after a rainstorm. Bubbling sounds pop in the background. A simple looping piano melody, something unmistakably jolly and upbeat, is a sign of things to come.

Gradually other instruments join in to form a cavalcade of positivity; soft sub-bass begins to ebb and flow beneath it all, acoustic guitars play chirpy arpeggios, jaunty strings singing out, high pitched synth melodies intertwine with one another, weaving in and out like little birds zooming around together on a sunny afternoon, the inexplicable heavy haze of distorted guitar providing strips of abrasion here and there, which adds a confounding element to what is otherwise a lesson in the progression of different instruments in a semi-classical setting.

It's a compound of sculpted percussive parts and of whimsical melodies, resulting in a winsome piece of music with clear direction; seemingly untainted by genre or pretence, it's fresh and lively, like catching a glimpse of a small dog trotting happily along. Cute, but not obviously so – not the collective vision of cuteness, but a personal one, illustrated for our own hearts to enjoy.



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Friday, 4 September 2015

LOTO RETINA – PREMIÈRE SÉANCE

ATMOSPHERE. Atmosphere is a big deal. Without atmosphere, or ambiance if you will, cocktail lounges would not feel chilled out yet classy at the same time, forests would not effuse as much peacefulness as they do, a spa would not be as relaxing, theme parks would not be as exciting — put simply, atmosphere is important. And, if you didn't notice, the link between all those aforementioned places is sound. or MUSIC. Music creates atmosphere. One might just like singing along to music, or dancing to it, but, perhaps unbeknownst to the singer or dancer, these things are being acted out in the midst of ambiance or atmosphere conjured by music; it affects not only an individual mood, but the mood of an entire locale, wherever the music is in earshot. It is the particular character of our surroundings.

Why am I talking so much about atmosphere? Because of nice morsel of music I stumbled across over the weekend. Le morceau est creé par un producteur français qui s'appelle loto retina, et le son s'appelle «première séance». Alors, l'anglophone pourrait assumer «séance» en le sens de «séance de spiritisme» – en fait, je fait exactement ça! Donc je l'ai écouté, attendant pour quelque chose fantasmagorique, mais plûtot j'entendis des sons beaux ondulant, des melodies flous répétant – l'atmosphère divine de la musique lo-fi.

Whoa, what happened there? That was weird.

But anyway, loto retina has shared his "first session" not his first "seance", which would have been decidedly more spooky than a session (of musicmaking). It's a little old, 4 months says SoundCloud, but that's neither here nor there. The sounds of 'première séance' are hypnotic, a combination of lightly undulating melodies soaked in dreamy delay, and one-note bassy rumblings beneath these fluttering sounds, all of it soaked in gorgeous soft lo-fi aesthetics.

The first section, for there is one – marked by a strange dinosaur screech or synth-made scream – is brighter, rising higher than the second goes, which for the most part follows a mesmerising loop (except for one cutesy melody standing out at the 2:19 mark) all the way till this sweet little track's end, where it is beset by monstrous scathing mechanical noises, metallic analogue vocal chords shouting, and where the sounds become slightly distorted, muffled, mangled, finishing up a relaxing and intriguing sojourn into a world of pure, innocent atmosphere.



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Monday, 17 August 2015

KODAK CAMEO – EVER COME BACK

Yahoo! Well, not exactly "yahoo" – more like a "whoaaah…" because you're not really going to be exactly leaping in the air over this one. It's not quite the energetic pick-me-up for sort of thing. It is however a soul-cleanser, an atmosphere giver, a set of sounds so vast and emotive that you cannot help but be possessed by them for the whole 4 minutes 11 seconds they exist.

"Wow sounds so nice already," you're saying, "What else?" Since you asked so nicely I'm gonna continue writing. It's called 'Ever Come Back', it's tagged "#pineapple", and it's by Kodak Cameo. Picture this: A warmcool breeze, a textured haze slowly fogging around a voidsome space, fragile melodies inching out from the swirling mists of imagination, '80s love ballad aesthetics rolling out like a panning shot of the Ciucaş Mountains, slowly zooming in until you a single blade of grass is crisp and clear onscreen. It's what the track sounds like.

If we're going to get label-y, then I suppose you could call this vaporwave – the transportive nature of the track (i.e. the feeling that you're somewhere else as you listen to it), the retro or throwback hints in the music, the slightly decayed or damaged veneer of it all. It's not un-vaporwave, that's for sure.

Unrelenting blasts of ambience wash over you with watercolour beauty and oil paint intensity, swathes of sound building a picture of bittersweetness decorated with aching snippets of saxophone snatched from some unknown jam, punctuated with glassy synth chords, rounding it all off with a flavour that's as robust as it is delicate, a fleeting ethereality that like passing clouds is huge and imposing but soon dissipates into nothingness.

The sparse sparkling melodies skipping over the merging meld of modulating synth and subtle rumblings, the minimal percussion in the form of reverbing shakers, the whole glittering mass of it, the gentle panning from left to right, the piercing light of its second third moving into the cooler stalwart sounds of its final third. It is an affecting morsel of sound, a touching example of just how epic and all-encompassing superficially "ambient music" can be, taking hints from cheese-laden romantic ballads and pop with its veilsome aesthetics and melodic refrain, but staying firmly in the realm of atmosphere-making, web-born music, an experimentalism hatched not just from a love of sounds, but a love of making sounds.



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Tuesday, 24 February 2015

DAEMON – HOW TO FIND SATISFACTION IN DAILY LIFE

Mmmmm it's a question that a lot of people ponder. How do you find satisfaction in daily life? Where does satisfaction come from? Really we should be satisfied by the mere fact we are alive and experiencing some semblance of daily life. In reality, that's different. We're not all happy. Often it is the very fact of daily life and its mundane repetitions, its monochrome routine, it's this that is the source of trouble for many. To live is to struggle. How much you struggle depends on how strong your mind is.

This question was raised by the title of this particular track right here. It is called 'how to find satisfaction in daily life' and it's by a musicmaker called Jaci Rodriguez or probably more easily identifiable as Daemon. I was originally attracted to this slice of sound owing to the tone of its lightly echoing glassy chords, which give this track its foundation of melancholy, but there's more to it – think of the dynamically chopped up breakbeats-style drums, the plonking synth signifying the despairing exhausted parts of your mind, the zapping high-register synth melody repeating throughout like a floating feather of hope.

It resounds with a thousand repetitions of a thousand days, the same alarm clock sound every morning, snippets of suicidal early mornings, of fatigue-worn evenings, days marking the space between the upper reaches of a slowly swinging pendulum, life and all its energies and ambitions flashing in your brain as everyday reality smothers you. I imagine these endless immutable awakenings as the beat gallops ahead, leaving melodies hanging in the air, the drifting sadness of those chords lingering, thickening with each passing day. But there is hope, in a kind of insane way, a wild hope that things will change even though you are doing the same thing every day…

Wow way to get negative, sorry about that. In conclusion: How to find satisfaction in daily life? Weed and lots of it. No, not really, it's whatever works for you.




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Friday, 16 May 2014

KIDKANEVIL – MY LITTLE GHOST

From the first ambient whirrings into life on 'All Is Lost', the opener – and more of an electronic dawn than a big bang – to Kidkanevil's brand new album My Little Ghost is in essence a sojourn through soundscapes; it's a walk through the woods, through your city at twilight, down a countryside lane at early evening; it's a lazy afternoon watching TV with sun bulging through the windows, a rainy day spent watching a rainy day go by, a snooze on a beach. At the same time, these are spacey, fantastical, cosmically charged pieces that conjure as much unreality as your mind can imagine.

Songs with titles like 'Escape Pod' take us away on journeys; in an escape pod, or rather, the song itself is an escape pod. A cute menagerie of bleeps and bips great and small gives way to nebulose sounds, shooting through space on a hopefully homeward yet lonesome trajectory, mechanical percussion skittering all the way. Next track 'Dimension Bomb' (presumably named after the short animated film of the same name) starts with a boom, which pockmark the track later on as explosions in other planes of existence felt here & now, then follows an arpeggio as it mutates through thickets of ever-frenzied cymbal, kinetic fizz and organ-like synth. Fantasy atmospheres arise in piano-flavoured 'Shunkanido' ("Teleportation" in Japanese), whose melody seems fittingly in a Japanese scale of some kind; I imagine somebody trying to teleport somewhere – and nearly getting there, with the exciting clatter of cymbals and sub-bass bulges – but ultimately finding themselves in the same room. A very persistent image of persistence and hope in light of frustrating failure.

Playful yet serious vibes arise in the glisteningly FX-laden beats and relentless arpeggios of 'Keroro Dub', inspired by Keroro Gunso, the least perhaps "atmospheric" of the tracks. It's almost in direct opposition to Japan-only track 'Tales Of Moonlight And Rain', whose hip hop tilted beat harbours videogame sounds, clusters of invading glitch, and a final third that glows feel-good with electronic watery burblings and gurglings and warm synth chords like the sun peeking out just before rain finishes. Likewise 'OG San' (a pun on the Japanese for uncle, 'ojisan') commands its fair share of atmosphere, feeling like a dim and nowhere house with all its domestic noises of fridge hummings, distant TV sounds, contented breathing replicated by insectoid percussion, warm synth and snippets of tiny piano.

This comes after the pair of tracks, 'Ohayo' ('good morning') and 'Oyasumi' ('goodnight') – the first opens up with warmly stumbling successions of spherical tones, echoing a clumsy body and slow state of mind in the morning; the second is more structured, running on an insomniacally ticking beat, and restlessly reverbing marimba, a vocal sample nestled nonchalantly in there, breezy squelch synth following the marimba all the way to the chaotic ending. Given its busier setting, it's as if Kidkanevil (who gives his location as "Tokyorkshire") is trying to say it's more exciting being a night owl than an early bird.

'Earth to G San' is the first of a few collaborations on My Little Ghost, working on this classically glitchy track with Tetsuya Hikita to produce rippling arpeggios (that put me in mind of the Final Fantasy VII prelude) over scratching hiss snare and random noises. Next up, the organic-meets-synthetic bustle of 'Inakunaru' co-stars experimental hip hop producer Phasma, and is a shapeshifting song, changing form and tack a few times as it goes on. The ever-welcome singer/songmaker Cuushe appears, twice, once in arguably the album's strongest song, 'Butterfly/Satellite' – which, also featuring the beatmaking prowess of London's submerse, shows off the breathy richness of Cuushe's vocals and provides an addictively synthetic juke rhythm to bop along to; later on, Cuushe lends her composition skills to the glockespielic, music-box-like, touching toybox sounds of 'All Is Not Lost' – the direct antithesis to starter track 'All Is Lost'. Glitched-out beats underpin plumes of bass and organesque synth, melodic percussion flitting in the air alongside bleeps and buzzings, gloriously and fluidly transitional from start to finish. Whereas 'All Is Lost' is a drizzly, despair-filled morning, 'All Is Not Lost' is a golden afternoon with promise of more to come.

Also lending her talents to 'All Is Not Lost' is Cokiyu, who also features on 'Tomie' (named after the manga of the same name, maybe) – her ghostly voice adds a phantomesque quality to what is possibly the most minimalist track on the album. Its transition from worrisome breezes and xylophonic platitudes to a second half of plaintive singing and simplistic melody alongside disturbed white noise panning from ear to ear is not only effective but clever and beautiful too. It's a good illustrator for the album as a whole: with electronic noises and organic percussive sounds arises two feelings, one of cuteness and playfulness – with all its titular references to otaku and Japanese culture – which fades to one that's kind of a blank, directionless hope.

That's not to say it's negative, or even melancholy; My Little Ghost, in its very title, summons a more diminutive, more romantic, less threatening yet just as omnipresent and affecting version of "the black dog", a euphemism for depression. It might not be that, exactly – it could be more that a particular memory or another feeling, maybe even just curiosity, is the "little ghost" – but it's certainly a thoughtful, beautiful title for a thoughtful, beautiful set of songs. It's something to put on, leave on, listen to, walk in and out of, and lie back to.



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Monday, 10 March 2014

MELTY – DESTINY

Bass bass and more bass. Bass so big it transfuses all your body's vital fluids with rollicking sound waves, rumbles you off your seat, trips you over, gets you dancing on the floor like The Simpsons during an episode of Battling Seizure Robots, twirling like a Beyblade 'neath the Boogieman's sun-obscuring discoball. Gloriously greasy bass drip-dripping in chunky droplets— hey! That's enough; stop!

Bassically, I speak this way because I've been debauched by the bass in Melty's fresh-fresh track 'Destiny'. From ??? (SYDNEY), Australia, its this guy's only upload on SoundCloud, a tantalising morsel that gets your ears salivating and literally starving for more. So yeah there's bass as well but but but there's more as well. There's atmosphere and energy and a footwork-flavoured beat that scream to be listened to, jostle to possess you, to guide you into the magic circle of the dancefloor and, well you know speaking in tongues? That's what it wants to do, but to your legs 'n' arms.

It's four minutes of fun. Adopting the ever more widely heard and widely practiced yet cultish and shamelessly addictive rhythm of juke/ghetto house/footwork (what's the frikkin difference, what the hell let's call it jukework house) rhythm, it drops into gloopsome tar pits of sub-bass pitted with a sparse hail of snare, flocks of vocal sample swimming through the air in skittish mayhem. Yet despite this seeming craziness it's minimalist, dropping into real melody only in its central break in bass, where high ringing distorted synth glistens in raindrop sequence – contrast this with the end, where the song explodes in crashing syncopated beats for a brutal finale. Not to mention the haunting low-vox sample of "Destinyyy..." (from the John Talabot/Pional song also called 'Destiny'?) breathing out like a mix at both ends of this immense track.

Give us more Melty, give us more! I love the name too. Melty. It is innocuous, hiding behind the cutesy moniker a swirling swathe of phantoms, bass-hungry demons and a void of nothing that only attracts the largest of sounds. Let's hope there's something soon before we all go insane.



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Monday, 17 February 2014

LINDSAY LOWEND – BASEMENT DWELLER OVERTURE

LEAPING LIZARDS! How did I miss this? I mean, I'm sorry for saying "leaping lizards" – I don't think I've ever said it before and I'll be damned if I ever say it again. Sorry. But in all seriousness: how did I miss this? Rhetorical question, mind you; reckon there's a whole load of reasons why I missed it, the main one being I just wasn't vigilant enough. Gotta stay vigilant. If you want to hear nice sounds, gotta keep an ear to the ground. Not the ground but at least in the direction of music sources. SoundCloud for example. Not fucking Vice magazine, that's for sure.

Words words words that's all I'm saying wordy word-word word. And they mean pretty much nothing, too. However, let's break the cycle and say some meaningful words; not in the poignant, single-tear-tumbling-down-a-soft-cheek kind of meaningful, but meaningful as in the "has meaning" sense. So, I wrote about Lindsay Lowend's Wind Fish EP after I a) freaked out about the name of the EP, b) freaked out about the music of the EP, and c) freaked out with regards to both of these things. I'm a Zelda fan (sorry if u hate but haha on you u suk) so it was natural to check it out. The sound was like nothing I'd heard before so I just wrote like a madman until I was limp and dried up like washed up sea cucumber. And I waited for more stuff to appear and it didn't so I treasured the EP and listened to it a lot.

FLASH FORWARD to five minutes ago and I played Lindsay Lowend's latest 'Basement Dweller Overture' for literally a couple of seconds (I enjoyed it nonetheless), but I'm tired right now and want/need to go to bed/do something else. Flash forward to a full day later and I'm writing this again, but now in the safe wakefulness of daytime.

The song begins with this indomitable bounce led more by the bass than the beat itself, which forms a nicely styled backdrop to the whole thing, the drums themselves thick and meaty. Something about the synthwork in this song is clean as anything – there is no dust to be found – surgical precision leads the way, with vocal samples or at least what sound like vocal samples sliced and diced and spread skillfully around like a clean mosaic of a buffet. The drums leave wonderful offbeat trails, oozing the heft of dubstep. But halfway through, what the egg happens? A piano solo; virtuosic and rich, it detaches your ears from the previous playground of electronic noises in that nodding-head hip-hop style beat, bringing you into a world where the music speaks for itself, painting colours of wonder and imagination.

That's before you're thrown into a chunk of electro-funk, filled with buzzing and elephant trumpeting sounds in a glorious section of glitch-laden cut-up style, filling your ears until the inspirational few notes that play at the end. There's always something intensely satisfying when you listen to a Lindsay Lowend song – maybe it's just me, but he seems to be able to conjure the same magic as the best videogame soundtrack without having to rely on any visuals whatsoever. His music is defined by jazz sensibilities – breaking off at tangents, having no main theme, exuding a wholly improvisational talent. It seems as though, with this in mind, this is the music of nerds or geeks or let's just say "the marginalised" – especially with this particular title, like an anthem for hikikomori – but then there are elements that boast the swagger of hip hop, the popular glitchgasm of dubstep, or juke's quick-step addictiveness, which throws any listener off with regards to pegging this in any particular genre or indeed annexing it for the benefit of some appreciation group or another.

What this really is… well it's the sound of a generation. It mirrors years of drip-feeding on popular culture and overstimulation thanks to gaming and the internet, retaining a retro nostalgia that makes for a clash of pre- and post-internet mindsets quite evident in the frenetic and wildly imaginative tracks from Lindsay Lowend.

BTW The awesome 80s-themed, souped-up Earthbound-Zelda style artwork was done by German sibling duo, Low Bros.



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