| I listened to Clue to Kalo four times on my stereo with the sound relatively high. It felt like... questionably ethereal background music that one wouldn't necessarily hear in the elevator but wouldn't expect to be played at an artsy fartsy gathering of sorts, either. Then I put the CD in my Discman. It's officially been made possible to have cathartic moments when you're wearing headphones. Australian Mark Mitchell has stumbled onto something original; emo lyrics combined with both up and downtempo reverberations . "The First Song of the Rest of Your Life" is undeniably a track that could both begin (which it does) and end the album. Lasting only 1:55, the tone is set for an album that almost seems like it might be reaching, and succeeds anyway. And as soon as you're set for a chill-out record, "Empty Save the Oxygen" introduces upbeat guitar strumming and passionate lyrics of a wretched, self-deprecating soul simultaneously; "You may be special but not special enough / I'd like to love you but I'd like a lot of things." The track itself, like most songs on Come Here When You Sleepwalk develops with a variety of sounds, speeds and rhythms, and in a complementary manner. Technically, Come Here When You Sleepwalk develops into an electronic music producer's wet dream. "This Is Over By Inches" embodies everything that is the genre; drum machines, ethereal keyboards, emotional humming and random noises resonating over illogical progressions. "Within Reach of My Own Arms" is a little hard on the ears at first; with sound moving from speaker to speaker and an intense crackling noise to boot, but then it launches into a magnificent beat comprised of some kind of hip-hop and exponentially slow drum'n'bass with mellow keyboard or orchestral sequences in the background. "We'll Live Free (in NYC)" is a continuation of the sequences, but with a Philip Glass feel (sans the anxiety) and a throbbing bass line that should not go unnoticed, or unappreciated, especially when it transforms the track from something to study with to an otherworldly smoke-out groove. You know the kind. When I read lyrics like "I can see us dismantled / Why keep fooling ourselves? / You know we're not going to make it" on a CD insert for an electronic music artist, I regress a bit to my teenage angst years and also question the music that will accompany the lyrics. No need for that. Mitchell ties his love for beats and perfectly tweaked ivory notes tightly enough that I can forgive him for the Judah Johnson voice-meets-Dashboard Confessional agony-meets old-skool Erasure/Spacetime Continuum beats-track, "Still We Felt Bulletproof." I just wasn't prepared for a man to sound like Enya, even though he redeems himself with the last four minutes of the song (yes, it's eleven minutes). You know you're going to get quality beats when "I Think We Can Kinetic" starts, combining the same noises you heard when you kicked Snoopy's ass at that old Atari game, but then launching into beats and creations that would make Goldfrapp proud (based on her newest album, at least). "Your Heart Is Your Compass" provides the same, seamless introduction, with a bit of female vocals and balanced beats, but nothing prepared me for "Do You Know That Love Can End?" The track begins emo-like enough "It's true that I'm not fine most of the time / But that's ok / Bright days do come / She's one of those who knows when I'm not fine / Then why" I wondered if I was just having a sappy moment, but Mitchell has undoubtedly created a masterpiece of the aforementioned combo; emo and beats, and the near-tragic soundscape underneath the simplicity of sound is enough to make anyone shed a tear or two... or something. I just wish the song titles were a little shorter. - One Forty Two |
2XLP/Out Of Print