The overwhelming attitude of "Burst Apart" is a vulnerable sincerity clinging steadfast to its stances from one song to the next. Anthems for the soft-spoken. A bedroom soundtrack for the magical chasm of suspended aging that is early adulthood; reserved for not getting younger or older. Do you want to plunge headlong into the future or breath deeply in the passing moments, each one longer than the last? This album inspires the latter. Its occasional aggression seems to spring from the enchanted forest of its artwork. Somewhere tangible yet distant and vague, like a childhood memory that may only be a fairy tale imagination. Its complimentary tenderness highlighted by fragile vocals and soft instrumentalism remind you that in this universe it's all the same.
Blurring the line between weight and weightlessness, what The Antlers accomplish is at once scary and satisfying. Frequent repetition has not confronted me with an urge to awake from its confines and move forward, but instead I wish to remain enrapt in the cloak and mystery of its melodies. This is not an album I expected, not only because their previous release Hospice had not affected me. It was the album's artwork that had me give The Antlers another chance. My constant expressions of gratitude, sometimes flustered and impatient, keep me tethered to the possibility that something like this could catch me off guard. Here is an example of a pleasant surprise. Here is calmness and a chance to drift somewhere outside of yourself. Perhaps to sleep, perhaps to peace.
Download "Every Night My Teeth Are Falling Out"
No comments:
Post a Comment