Review Summary: in my dreams we are together
I’m tired. It’s a never-ending debate - that is, whether or not ‘lo-fi’ actually contributes anything to an artist’s sound, so as to necessitate it. Granted, some musicians simply lack the polished production and have to make do. This idea is nothing new, really, but endless artists embrace the sound for aesthetic reasons as well. It’s arguable whether or not it’s merely to mask otherwise unremarkable music as opposed to using pristine production for similar intents, as though the fairy dust cures weak songwriting. It’s rare, I would argue, that this lo-fi approach works, offering more than a cover up. On
Sick In A Place Away from Everything, the eclectic debut release from White SeeD, this fuzzy timbre achieves more than concealment; it breathes life into its subtle piano melodies, creating a unique listening experience.
Perhaps it’s best to peg down this experience - though by the nature of ambient, yours may differ, oh well.
Sick In A Place feels more observational, rather than experiential. Putting it into perspective, it’s like comparing an IMAX film to watching a 10-inch TV (imagine an older model, maybe black and white). The former is engaging, making you oblivious to surroundings while the latter requires more focus, yet you're susceptible to little distractions.
Sick In A Place has a redolent aura, bringing feelings of the past and thoughts of life, love, and loss alongside blurry textures and inexplicable glitches - nothing a smack on the side wouldn’t fix. It feels like flipping through old videos, but none of the characters are present to share these memories and traditions. Time passes, the tapes wear out, and the sentiments grow more unclear. Listening to the album in question feels like you’re on the outside looking in, despite feeling a certain attachment to the poignant tunes. Rarely does White SeeD break character, but when he chooses to, it’s stunning. “Fail, Fell, Fail” is the richest track on the album, as though you found that sweet spot on the tuning knobs where the screen stops moving around and doing weird sh
it. Other tracks, such as “In A Basement Thinking About Nothing” remain veiled, without dynamics or climax as White SeeD goes through a routine of afterthought but no desire to progress. The obvious analogy would be ‘stuck in the past’, like an old man who can’t derive anything new from previous experiences, but is perfectly content to dwell endlessly. You sit, listen, feel an inkling of emotion, and then nothing comes of it. It’s the kind of music bearing more worth in concept than actual content, despite the lovely, varied instrumentals.
Still, the staying power is evident. Whether or not that dusty old photo album really means anything - it’s just pictures of random events, nothing special - it’s all in the concept. I have photo albums of my own, mostly pictures of things I barely remember and people I don’t speak to anymore. In practicality I
could throw them out, but I hold on to them anyway. Whatever. Sometimes it’s pointless to justify it when in the end it kinda just feels right. I’m going to sleep now.
