Fractions of experience. Split evenly, It Is All a Great Strange Dream is 5.5
“tracks” each by Neu Orpheus (formerly Albino Deers) and Evan A. James
(formerly a very
hip cat with
releases, currently a very hip cat with
releases). It’s actually a 5-to-6 split, but half is half, and my
calculator ain’t lying. The top half, “A” if you will, is surprising trek
through neo-urban R&B samplage, surprising because Albino Deers existed as
a much more ambient entity, content to let drift rule the verbiage when
discussing his vibe. Here, as Neu Orpheus, there is no drift, only action. The
gentle thump of drum tracks, the liquid bass, the tinny sheen around the treble
setting suggesting the warped edges of vaporwave (this is an Adhesive Sounds
release after all) combine for a smooth ride, broken only by the track shifts.
Vocal samples don’t overwhelm, all suggesting the titular “strange dream,”
which constantly shifts under Neu Orpheus’s deft manipulation. I keep wanting
to say “Norpheus” in my head, a constant image of Morpheus from The Matrix the result, and I wonder
about taking that red pill before listening to this. Or was that the blue pill?
I never remember. I just ate a bunch of pills.
Clean break to B. Six tracks of Evan A. James
going the opposite route, much wispier and more incorporeal than usual. Languid
tones, keyboards through mist, and strings promote the “strange dream,” where
marveling at oddities as they pass through your field of vision is the only
logical response. James uses his half to build the aural equivalent of the
perfect dreamworld, part Kirby (without the crackling samples), part Carroll
(without the manic Disnification), all a complete experience where the surreal
holds a dominating purchase. It’s the perfect counterpoint to Neu Orpheus’s
half, a rabbit hole through which you slip further into the depths of slumber,
the heavy, deep REM stasis where it’s impossible to tell that the dream is a
dream. It’s all real there, the experience, half of the musical artifact
documenting the helplessness of being immersed in this state. Both halves do
that actually – the great strange dream stretches ever onward, into infinity,
and its soundtrack repeats.
--Ryan Masteller