Wednesday, October 28, 2020

Album Review: mynameisblueskye - No Ordinary Summer

 


I'm going to do something unheard of here and say something nice about Bandcamp. Gasp, right?! A music writer, heaping praise on Bandcamp? Impossible! Yet, here we are... 

One of the great things about Bandcamp as a platform is that it facilitates the release of independent projects and gives solo artists the same tools and frameworks to promote themselves as those with a whole team at their disposal. Further, the platform has a robust set of discovery tools that allows you to actually find things that you'd want to listen to on the platform, as opposed to what ever is being pushed by paid PR consultants in a given press cycle. Between recommendations from other users, articles written by Bandcamp staff, and stuff I happen upon just by visiting the front page, I end up with almost TOO MUCH to listen to and enjoy- which is not a complaint, believe me. I wish I had the time to cover everything I discover through the platform, but sadly there are only so many hours in the day, most of which I'm either grinding for XP or gold. One such release that more or less fell into my lap thanks to rainbow glazed joy funnel that is Bandcamp is mynameisblueskye's No Ordinary Summer. Put simply, it's great. And it is really, really great.

No Ordinary Summer is an autobiographical album by one young, solo composer, identified only as Chris B, singing about the summer he experienced in quarantine while processing the trauma of this country's recent racial awakening. No Ordinary Summer was tracked using the barest of recording setups, merely utilizing a keyboard, drum machine, microphone and laptop. The fact that this album works as well as it does proves the thesis that you don't need more than a couple of good ideas and the ability to execute (most of) them to create a compelling piece of art. Most of these tracks must have been recorded in a single take and they're so DIY you can hear a carbon monoxide detector with a low battery going off in the background of at least one of them ("Start at the Bottom"). This is a fact that I find endlessly endearing. Beyond the inclusion (or intrusion?) of environmental sounds filling in and texturing the mix of these songs, there is some serious, songcraft going on here as well. More than anything, what makes this album an engaging listen is the simple interplay of the intersecting vocal and keyboard melodies, which are allowed to take to the fore of the mix in tandem, in a delicate dance of Sparklehorse-reared, fosterling virtue and charm.

The drab drag and understated majesty of "I Should Be In a Swimming Pool Right Now" illudes to the summer that should have been with a cold, shadowy beat and moaning, neon melody, that periodically draws out a disquieting hiss from the instrument as it is played. "Hidden Planet" takes gradual flight, with aid of a popping, air-bursting beat and the ample lift of a sunbeam colored synth chord. "Revolution on Paper" in contrast, is grounded in lyrical honesty, depicting some betrayal of trust that seems larger than what can be pinned on a single individual, a resigned message of resilience,  lite by an electro-gospel harmony, and contained by the shadow cast from a clear-eyed soul melody. 

I love that Chris B has the confidence to center his voice on these songs. It allows his personality to flesh out No Ordinary Summer and permits the listener to access the emotional core of each track. The solid compositions as well help usher the listener into his world, while the lo-fi production gives the entire effort the feel of an intimate concert taking place in the adjoining room. Sort of like that episode of Portlandia where Carrie and Fred persuade Amy Mann to do a private concert for them in their living room, except in this case, you're the guest. And your presence is at Chris's pleasure.