Michael Carmichael
To Die In Oregon

In the spring of 2017, during one of my usual ventures on Soundcloud in search of new innovative tunes, scrolling through the suggested tracks and various reposts, I stumbled upon a song by a guy with a peculiar name, Michael Carmichael. Googling the name, I only found a video from an episode of the TV series Chuck, where a guy uses that pseudonym to avoid who knows what kind of control, and then the link to the Bandcamp page of said unknown singer-songwriter.

So, I delve deeper into the listening, discovering that behind Michael Carmichael lies Sam Trujillo from Phoenix, Arizona: the guy has a discography of about ten works among demos, EPs, and self-produced LPs since 2015, which attest to a decent prolificacy in writing original songs and a personal and well-defined style.

The latest "album" - although it's improper to call it that since it was produced only in digital format and on an audiocassette in a limited number of copies - is titled "To Die In Oregon" and gathers 8 tracks with a total duration of barely a quarter of an hour, yet they are complete songs and not mere drafts.
Despite the home production, the lo-fi overdubs with a classic multitrack, the sparse arrangements with a handful of instruments (guitar, bass, and mostly basic percussion, keyboard, and drum machine in a couple of tracks), it is a simple and easy-to-listen-to album.
If what I've written above might suggest a work of adolescent whining recorded with a potato, even on the first listen, there's reason to reconsider: the brevity of the tracks can be seen as a weakness, but due to the repetitiveness of the riffs and vocal melodic lines, this brevity becomes a strength, allowing the musical motifs to stick in the listener's head, making the listening experience very smooth and flowing without becoming boring.

The lyrics speak of melancholy, a sense of incompleteness, youthful boredom that often dilutes with herb and alcohol, things that might pass or are hoped to be understood when older.
Among the tracks to listen to, "Forever Having Fun" struck me the most due to the contrast of the cheerful melody and the lyrics addressing the dichotomy between the struggle one experiences and the good one wishes for loved ones ("I can't let you go, leave things as they are/ I have no control or self-esteem/ But I won’t show it, I won’t let you see me like that"), while "Feel The Same" closes the short album on the note of impotence in the face of harm done, with a single phrase: "After all, I feel like you. I know you're not the one to blame. I've always had this pain and I don't know if I'll change."

It's certainly not an album that everyone can appreciate, but for those who love singer-songwriting with emotional and youthful themes, perhaps with lo-fi quality and sparse arrangements, this is a good album.