With new additions to both Eilean Rec and the frequently explored by myself Krysalisound, Ojerum has been busy. This acoustically minded record, “There Is A Flaw In My Iris”, takes a departure from other drone material, marking itself out as a lullaby type organism with the songwriter sounding like he’s talking to his instruments in his sleep.
A woozy affair then, this is only a description of the very nominal and tuned tuning of guitar that glue the sabbatical narrative together. I enjoy the mood: it’s uplifting, full of melancholy and almost music-box-like in its quotidian appetite for a morsel of melody. What say you electronics, have you no fizz here? It would seem not. The music sounds totally uncontrolled by the forces of machines. Strumming a sharp string, murmuring a clutch of vowels, towing things along, like a silk handkerchief made from sows.
At any instance, there is no hurry here, no climax. Amazing stuff I would say, simply for how unpretentious it is, how direct. The vibe is implanted deep in rustic, acoustic and abstract folk meanderings, a river that runs deep underground and into the vast ocean of the world at large. There is a purity to it all. I wonder how music like this can subvert so many elements of prediction and remain wholly other, wholly unique. Like “Don’t Worry Mother” on Shimmering Moods by Ojerum released recently, this sound art carries with it ghosts of the past, specters that, fundamentally, sound as if their spirits have been set free from the coma-tense. An utterly spellbinding release, and one that I want to return to for rest.