A distant sunset across the gorge brings azaleas to bloom in the stagnant clouds. Bugs turn their voices to the heavens as night approaches. Birds make their final trek across the creek, and bats stretch their wings in a groggy awakening. A faint chill enters the air. You have no jacket, no gear, no water, nothing defending you from this unimaginably powerful world. However, before all hell breaks loose and you’re left to fight the bears tonight, you’re taking one last look at the dust from which you came, to which you will soon return.
Few albums match the depressive tone embodied by bod’s Your Music, an album that compresses a days-long melancholic episode into just thirty minutes. Bod invokes movement through a collection of sound effects that leap to the forefront of the mix at every point of transition, bringing to mind a hand rummaging through neglected boxes in a cramped basement. Between these bursts of noise comes thick harmonic sections constructed with looping synth sounds and murmured vocals, indicative of a moment of silent reflection that pulls the thinker deeper into the hellish spiral.
Though the record may seem at first to be a standard tear-jerker, the album description and visual aesthetic reveal an additional level of depth. Bod rambles on about ancient texts, government thought control, and the loss of history, and the album cover depicts an AI rendering of a family that falls deeply into the uncanny valley. Desperate for a world that makes sense, bod gazes upon the chaotic environment around them and suffers intense pangs of sadness. As they begin to speak, the words fall on deaf ears, turning the speaker into a madman in the eyes of even those they hold most dear. Your Music’s depression originates from an undefined point out there in the world before vanishing into the subconscious, expressible only in experimental ambient Bandcamp albums.