Sometimes, the memories of growing up in the Midwest come flooding back in a vibrant rush, and it’s difficult to perceive why any singular point of reflection still possesses such a hold on my mind. Now, if you’re not familiar with how things work in the center aisle of this country’s landmass, you might mistakenly assume that the most pivotal of my reflections would be the memory of riding a goat to school or something. But alas, it’s nothing so charming as that... no, instead, I’m plagued by memories of how many copies of Herb Alpert’s
Whipped Cream & Other Delights I would be confronted with... like, literally everywhere. Plagued—
plagued is the proper word for it, because there was just a rash of these things floating around at one point: sticking out from the shelves of records at friends’ parents’ houses, begging to be rehomed at thrift stores and flea markets, and resting in frames in the back bar of local watering holes. Funnily enough, it’s not like anyone could ever tell you anything about the record, despite how numerous it was. I don’t think anyone ever actually listened to the damned thing. Honestly, I think people just liked the lady on the cover... or maybe they just had a sweet tooth... or a very specific fetish... anyway, the weird trick it played on my psychology is that I’ve developed a cordial fascination with records that feature random pretty women on their covers, and that’s more or less how I ended up checking out SARN’s
i'm am in dark places. As with Mr. Alpert’s record, the woman on the cover of this LP is a mysterious siren who leaves more questions asked than answered and has almost nothing to do with the music (both women are also wearing white, but that’s about where their similarities end).
i'm am in dark places is a weird pop record—specifically, a VERY weird pop record—defined by passive-aggressive countermelodies, post-rock emulations, soothingly demented drum loops, and a preoccupation with pearlescent textures over rough, grounded grooves. It’s a little bit John Dwyer-esque, a little Magnetic Fields, a little Cindy Lee, and kind of a lot of Giant Claw, but much more pared back and focused than anything else I could compare it to. Most of these tracks are content with a core melody that’s developed between SARN’s sparse vocals and a guitar line, which are then braised by some form of electronic interference while simultaneously bickering with an intersecting rhythm that makes them appear to find their momentum out of sheer spite and clumsy ambition. Listening to the record feels a little like SARN is messing with you—seeing if you can predict where their songs could be headed, despite their simplicity and concessions to pop convention (however tortured), only to deny you any anticipated resolution and substitute an extraordinary, if improbable, catharsis in its place. I get that SARN is doing what these songs need, serving their own interests instead of rushing to grant the wishes of the listener, and I appreciate the commitment and circuitous way this music ends up reaching our ears—almost your hearing these songs is a kind of knock-on or concomitant coincidence of their existence rather than their intended purpose. I'm very appreciative of the fact that the mystery of these songs stays intact through the naturally ensuing obscurantism of their conception, and attempting to unwind the tight ball of thorny brush that binds the heart of each song on
i'm am in dark places is one of the thrilling reasons it’s been on repeat for me since its release in July of this year. I’ve listened to it in full more times since its release than I have
Whipped Cream & Other Delights in the previous three decades... make of that what you will.
The long arc of history bends towards justice death (Deathbomb Arc).
