Seam
The Problem With Me

The Bitch Magnet was one of the fundamental crossroads of rock music, the source of some of the most significant musical experiences of the '90s.

Sooyoung Park was a member of that historic group that forever changed the face of hardcore and did not alter the attitude towards sonic experimentation when, after disbanding BM, he founded Seam. Various lineup changes, with the great John McEntire also joining the fray, positioned the project within the realm of singer-songwriter music, making it immediately noticeable that many protagonists of the turning point at the cusp of the '90s later channeled their talent towards solipsistic confession, lyrical concentration in line with the tormented '90s.

The Seam surpass the schizophrenic dimensions of the Pixies' sound, symbolized by Black's formula of 95% rock and 5% pop, achieving a unified definition of the psyche capable of absorbing a variety of influences without losing its totality, a holistic conception of the mind to circumvent the obstacles of pathological temptations. Disparate sound idioms coexist in this album, from the bleakest pop to the fanciful flights of acid rock, hardcore explosions, folk meditations implanted on the classic rock ensemble of bass, guitar(s), and drums, exploring all potential production possibilities to redeem the elements of such a linguistic pastiche, elevating it to a style. The result is seemingly mainstream, bordering on banality, but the way the tracks are constructed reveals Park's compositional wisdom. The choruses are often merely apparent, serving as sonic climaxes, tools to deepen the rifts, or they are launched against walls of sound, fragmented, and dissolved by the band's fervor. Gentle sways of notes embrace the singer's declarations as if the modesty of speaking out too much prevents a full expression of the self, entrusted to the most evocative signs of musical language.

Falsely akin to Codeine, they differentiate with their distinct "ideology," perhaps using similar poetics to convey different things. Where the former tends towards sound rarification, lethargy, and vital apathy, the pauses and explosions of Seam represent moments in the becoming of existence. A romantic dreamer on the brink of oneirism, Park purifies or sublimates his own neuroses in enveloping, exhausting arpeggios that could last indefinitely, or exorcises them in the distorted detonations of screaming guitars.

A light album, brief in duration, deceptively innocuous, that hides within its folds traps, picks to force open the stale formulas of rock, a cunning gift, a metaphysical joke that once again grants us Chicago.