Your Arms Are My Cocoon's self-titled is one of those albums that I enjoy in a way that it almost feels wrong to talk about. Like, as if attempting to reduce the way it makes me feel to words will denigrate it somehow. The album essentially combines screamo and bedroom pop in a manner that emphasizes and maximizes the vulnerability of both, and I find the result stunningly beautiful.
It was recorded particularly in Texas, and particularly in Illinois, and entirely on the smartphone of its author, Tyler Odom. The subject matter of the record deals with emerging from a depressive state and the process of learning to open oneself back up to others and the mere pleasures of living. Many of these themes are dealt with metaphorically, such as on the shuttering and flowery "Foster Nosferatu," as well as explicitly, such as on the tumbling wail of "in october of 2019 i called a suicide hotline for the first time in my life," which is about exactly what the title says it's about (although, apparently the call was made in 2018).
There are a lot of complicated, twinkly chords here that are very reminiscent of the emo music being made right before everyone became obsessed with trying to define what is and isn't within the genre's 5th wave. I also love the crinkly crackle of the drum machines and the whispery breath of the synths and the weeping harmonica on "illinois//alberta." But none of these things on their own are what makes this record stand out to me. Instead, it is the way that it all comes together to sweep me up like a flash flood of emotion that makes me keep coming back to it more than a year after its initial release.
The cloistered, cottony, and heavily insulated production makes for an uncomfortably hot mix which works well given the stifling emotional quality of the subject matter. This thick ambiance means that Tyler has to really holler in order to be heard as well, adding to the emotive impact of his delivery- the desperate nature of the vocals and the urgent bleating of his shrieks cut through me like my intestines were being flossed by barbed wire. You almost want to reach out to console him, but he's got to work it out in his own way. And that's ok.
Respecting someone's boundaries is a big part of learning to appreciate what this album has to offer. Creating a space to work through the contractions and demands of one's desires and needs, and the pains of processing one's fears, doubts, and regrets is what Your Arms Are My Cocoon's self-titled is all about. You have to admire the strength that it takes to release a record like this into the world. To hold on to oneself so tightly you can feel yourself starting to break and then letting go of that person you once tried to protect inside of you, while making yourself vulnerable to change- putting all of that into an album for others to listen to and enjoy is frightening but necessary sometimes. Art doesn't get any more raw and humble than this.