Jaye Jayle – Small Dark Voices

by Oliver
on January 11, 2023
in Single

After the wonderfully idiosyncratic Beatles cover Help! as well as the very fine live album PRISYN: Live from Scarlet Chapel beginning Jay Jayle – here once more, despite the renewed assistance of Ben Chisholm, a more obvious solo project by Evan Patterson – in the form of Small Dark Voices into the new year with new original material.

The work, flung on the psychiatrist’s chair, is actually to be understood primarily as the removal of inherited burdens, as Patterson explains, looking ahead:

„Hello and Happy New Year. I wanted to start this year off with the gates wide open. I’ve need more immediacy in my musical life and decided to just get this song out there in the world now. No more waiting… for now. Here is a 9 minute and 21 second song titled “SMALL DARK VOICES” that I’ve been working on randomly for the past three years and recently completed the final week of 2022. The song deals with the struggles of mental health and the inner monologue that can be at many times a chaotic vortex of stunting shades of confusion. Music and art is my outlet. It is what I have always found relief and resolution in sharing and relating to with others. There is so much joy in creating and completing every song. I hope you can hear that in this piece. Love always, Evan”.

Dark synths in the vaguely anachronistic 80s flair of the youngest Jay Jayle-studio record carries the dark timbre of Patterson, whose vocal line and charisma is ominous yet catchy, as the voice and almost machine-like beats wallow in the reverb, forgivingly outlining a pleasantly apocalyptic minimalism in post-punk and ambient industrial. Downtempo electronic eclecticism, patient and exhausted. After almost two-thirds of its playing time expires Small Dark Voices into a sparse groove, whose sluggish rhythm blurs the hallucinogenically blurring reference points with a massively grumbling substructure so much that at some point you unnoticedly dance through the slow motion in a trance.
After nine and a half minutes, this transcendental, subconsciously as captivating as actively consumed lulling pull does not feel – but rather like the unreal crowning glory of Price view.


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