Mr. Bill
Phantasmagoria

To explore the essence of this new work by Mr. Bill, I find it necessary to start with a premise.

Releasing an album in 2021 means having inevitably reckoned with the lockdown experience, having tested the difference between the pre-pandemic model and the arduous "return to normality." Such a disruptive and pervasive event cannot help but leave more than one trace in the publications of the last year and a half. Specifically, it's interesting to note how those most shaken by the isolation condition have reacted in two diametrically opposed ways. On one hand, there are those who took the opportunity to focus on themselves, on the other, those who wanted to pursue collaborations with even more ardor. Far from trying to demonstrate his musical self-sufficiency—a challenge that subtly animated Hayley Williams' intimate sophomore effort, to name one—Bill James Day has plunged headlong into the world of collaboration.

The bearded producer has always loved surrounding himself with artists of strong personal imprint and great charisma, believing in the possibility of surprising each other. However, this is the first time one gets the feeling that the essence of his album is represented by the mutual exchange of ideas among collaborators. With no fewer than nine out of fifteen tracks produced with more than two hands, "Phantasmagoria" is Mr. Bill's most varied and seemingly schizophrenic album.

The title is, as usual, quite evocative. This time it refers to the form of phantasmagoria theater, which used lantern light to project frightening images onto a wall, which were nothing more than optical illusions that the audience was led to believe, thanks to sound effects and sinister settings. The meaning of the title is purely metaphorical and refers to the impossibility for those who consume music to grasp its original meaning.

Though one might lose themselves in the author's interpretation of the night-time element, it's not hard to find it in many of the compositions that populate "Phantasmagoria." The brightest example of this is with the opening "Sad Pro", an essential yet incredibly evocative introduction, where hypnotic synthesizer lines chase each other in an unfulfilled crescendo. It's just a first hint of how the album gravitates more towards ambient coordinates than previous works. Other directions of this orientation can be found in the final pair "Gliitchake"/"Screening Pt. 2". The latter also dares in the Foley aspect: on a traditional rainy background, glitches shatter into a thousand pieces, outlining a woodland landscape where calls of tropical birds stand out. The most fascinating result of this introspective current, however, comes with "Golden Gate", a suggestive downtempo in collaboration with Sorrow.

It's not only the more ambient tracks that aim for relative simplicity. "Pleasure Seeker" is paradigmatic, seemingly coming effortlessly from Mr. Bill's pen (or rather, computer): linear beat, arpeggiated synthesizers, and melody entrusted to less processed vocal chops than usual. "Pastel" is more elusive, a sketch that ultimately fails in its attempt to reconcile the emotional dimension with the dryness of the rhythmic component (the central section of the track recalls his "Vitality" from "IRL" in 2014).

For the rest, it's a joyful triumph of maximalism, in which the collaborations with sophro and eliderp stand out, young producers who had already contributed to the "Slapnea" EP, released earlier this year and entirely curated by Mr. Bill's Discord server. "Titan" and "Slaptivism" highlight the riddim influences of the latter, adding to the catalog of Bill's heavier productions.

Equally vigorous are the exuberant ride "Useless & Nasty", whose melodic bridge is the primary point of affinity of this album with the previous "Apophenia," and "Pasta Masta", which adds dub nuances to the already consolidated palette of the Australian producer.

"Phantasmagoria" is a snapshot of the last year and a half of Mr. Bill, and as such reflects the numerous new chapters that have opened in his life, including the birth of a podcast under his name. It may initially appear out of focus and disappoint the expectations of those who hoped for a more marked evolution of his sound after the jazz approach suggested in a couple of episodes of the aforementioned "Apophenia"—it's undeniable that this latest album is more dance-oriented—but it would simply be wrong to seek a perspective in a record that doesn't pretend to be anything other than what it is.