Ryan Naideau | Earth Sign
On Earth Signs, I find a lingering hopefulness in the pauses between Ryan Naideau’s latest EP. Opening with “Stained Glass Reflection,” a gong like bass-pluck acts as the forgotten pulse to the free falling composition, laden with fumbling keys. However a stark tonal change comes by the way soon too, I love the toy key sounds on in “The Shadow Of My Shadow,” they are the nostalgic in an otherwise timeless record,–quickly we are reminded of that by the next track as “Ocean” lives up to the maritime-induced spinning as soft bubbly sounds tease your ears right through your headphones. The mumbling in the song also conjures images of an East Village short film that probably aired for only a week, you know, the one where just you, three weirdos, and an old lady sit shrewdly in the dark, waiting for pending cerebral activities. I love a record that pushes your boundaries, and in someways the residue of it on your space–sound that creates a reintroduction into that space, Earth Sign explores that and is bound to the experience as much as the experiencing, if that’s for you, go for it, if not, Spotify and the empty abyss are waiting.
Final thought? Ok, i’m listening to the title track by now, i’ve closed my eyes and listened to this hissy tape, and i’m on the last track wondering how or why i’m here, but also accepting the off-white color and crinkly texture of my ceiling. Everything feels like radiation. Yeah, that’s it, Naideau’s music feels like radiation, a beautiful radiation, that can be felt tactilely, but most certainly with a denouement that’ll linger.