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THE REVIEW
Suspended between the clangor of the United States of America and the Solemn Silence. A strange place, Canada. A vast land inhabited by a small handful of souls, just a bit more than a group, all crammed to the south. Above them, nothingness, or rather everything: mountains, forests, infinite lakes acting as punctuation marks, and further up the tundra, clinging to the eternal glaciers. Naturally, besides providing us with timber, camping tents, and excellent hockey players, this land is filled with musicians of refined, sinusoidal sensibility.
In 1995, Michael Findlay realizes his dream: combining his passion for music with that for poetry. The independent singer-songwriter genre has always been the solution that best fits these restless spirits. Well, let's catch a pair of lake dwellers, Suzanne Hancock and Tony Dekker (oh, the never too praised Great Lake Swimmers), and let's dive in, where inside means inside, inside the guts. And here was Barzin.
And so we set out to track down the ghosts of the most inspired songwriters, echoes of Nick Drake amidst the chambers of the Red House Painters, the rarefactions of the best Tortoise, Smog all around. But also no, better not, let's return to Barzin himself, blindfold and plunge into his abyss, but don't worry, there’s a soft landing below. "My Life in Rooms" is crafted weightlessly, diaphanous. It moves like only something fragile can. Contraction and expansion, because if you curl up you return to the fetus, the origin of everything.
Implosion, and a stomach that aches. Believe me, I wanted to say so much, narrate how Barzin has now become a cult author, tell about the magnificent lyrics, pull from my guts everything that such an album generates inside me and serve it to you on a platter, but I listen to the album, and my knees tremble.
I step aside, and Barzin whispers: "It's always/leaving time".
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Summary by Bot
Barzin's 'My Life In Rooms' is a delicate and emotionally charged indie folk album that evokes the vast, silent beauty of Canada. Michael Findlay’s poetic sensibility shines through haunting melodies reminiscent of Nick Drake and Red House Painters. The album’s fragile soundscape invites deep introspection, balancing contraction and expansion like a return to origins. The reviewer expresses a profound personal connection and reverence for this cult work.Tracklist Lyrics Videos
01 Let's Go Driving (03:58)
Here is the one
I think I'll follow
Here is my life
My life in rooms
Taking notes for myself
Of all the things to not become
So let's go from now
Someplace far
Let's go driving today
Away
You gets so tired
Of yourself
Taking these notes
Inside some books
See how it comes
Slowly undone
On days like these
We're not so young
So let's go and buy
Something new
Let's go driving
Away
Just for today
