April 22, 2004

Test Spin: Eluvium

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Someone told me that they thought the word ambient meant unremarkable. Ambient simply is, which makes sense since we simply exist. Since life is objectively pointless. There is no heaven, no hell. No dharmic circle. No God. No afterlife.

Most feelings are contrived. Society is a construct, which we’re forever trapped in since it was embedded in us during our childhood when we had no choice in what would essentially form us and dictate our future coping mechanisms. As a result, we feel more than just physical pain and pleasure, which are the only sensations that have integrity. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction and vacillating between extremes is too tiring. The only way we could respect ourselves as free, rational human beings is if we went about in a constant state void of emotion. The expectations instilled in us during our youth have precluded this for most of us. The closest we can get is a constant state of moderate happiness with glimpses of sadness or a constant state of moderate sadness with glimpses of happiness. For those that can’t quite achieve the former, but remain in the latter, there’s the new Eluvium album.

An Accidental Memory in the Case of Death is unremarkable. It was recorded in one day, two hours, with a guy and his piano. It’s thoroughly inoffensive. It’s absolutely not captivating and astoundingly repetitive with a significant lack of any conspicuous build ups. You can hear him mess up a few times. In short, its one of the few albums I’ve ever heard that has some integrity yet comes from someone who’s seemingly disillusioned.

Archived article by Deepal Chadha
Red Letter Daze Staff Writer