•
Rating: There are certain discs that seem like those people you meet and immediately want to make love to, even though you know you only have a few hours together, at most a late afternoon and a night, to satisfy the need for intellectual connection and to deepen the amorous blow. When it really clicks, you explore a bit, identify the right channels immediately while the codes pose no problem: when this happens, it means you communicate in the same way.
Almost always the possibility arises that things go perfectly, and then you are left there, awestruck, remembering how divine it was. However, there is one thing that can save you if you're fortunate and somewhat perceptive: you can ensure such situations aren't unique, in short, they can happen multiple times over a lifetime. And once you've collected enough, the melancholic memory will turn into a sort of pride mixed with inner satisfaction for how many you’ve encountered.
This EP takes up very little time in a lifetime, pleasantly inserts itself into an ordinary day and responds with a certain zest to the desire to hear something new in those territories where almost nothing ever changes, like those populated by shoegazers. We are facing yet another fisherman's eye, cast from the Atlantic coast of the United States towards Europe. An attempt at seduction that immediately works, putting you at ease and making you breathe the air of the most beautiful déjà vus of your life, presenting them to you at a perceptual/sensory level right in front of your eyes, just those. Obviously, even for Soren Well everything fades, everything vanishes, everything tends towards rarefaction and elusiveness, to the condemnation of the eternal daydream, an active dream, which requires your participation as a protagonist.
The axes around which one moves are those stable and Cartesian ones that determine the most known coordinates of this music, on the side of the sweetest and most sugary cloud. It’s pointless to repeat them in every review of the genre, isn't it? The added thing is that the well-defined sound, in some passages, seems to take something British and extremely listenable. But these are just passing sensations. Like those that accumulate over a lifetime and one day will make you feel certain that you have only listened to noble sounds, and had a relationship with them that has nothing to do with flesh, standing much higher, up there, where one hyperventilates unexpectedly because there is little to breathe. And with Soren Well, there is little to breathe.
For those who have read me this far, the reward.
Loading comments slowly
