Review Summary: Ambient drift and atmospheric toggle.
Sending the Past is chasmic, but all its corners are illuminated and vivid. There is no dead space. Ambient composers Jacob Newman and Devin Underwood craft rich textures, pairing far-reaching environmental worship with introspection. Like many before them, the duo draw from nature’s best nonphysical traits and pursue enlightenment through sound. Their calling card is unpredictable song progression, with each track being musically unique, yet bearing a wandering timelessness. Opener “Light Point” seems to replicate the sun rising, pouring into a coral reef; colours pop, creatures stir, water glimmers. The noises (though
probably devoid of field recordings) feel so organic and spontaneous,
Sending the Past might be the most exploratory ambient album this year.
This balance of organic and inorganic makes the album feel idealized, like how a blind man might imagine nature looking. There’s a huge sense of
happening, like at any given moment, somewhere, something special is occurring - flowers blooming, animals birthing, avalanches avalanching.
Sending the Past is packed with events. “Sequester” harnesses windy passages, piano, chimes, strings, and static, all in a way that feels cohesive, yet unrehearsed, flowing effortlessly. “Built From Amber” combines a rainforest with the hum of crickets, xylophones, and pitter-pattering synths that seem aimed for the stars; the odd man out is the vocal excerpt - random banter that adds little. Throughout the album are various tidbits that, though easily missed, interrupt the mood of the tracks, albeit just slightly. Newman and Underwood don’t entirely replicate nature, but rather, seem to recall it through a sequence of dreams, with little glitches in the matrix catching your ear. The hefty “Mist Field” illustrates that notion; the track is blanketed in fog, while subtle melodies poke through the swell. What could be a seamless, pulsing landscape is interrupted by sounds of artificiality in the forms of woodwinds and feather-light synth rhythms. Follow-up “The Elusive” is also full of distractions: red herrings in the shape of reverberating tones, trickling chimes, and shamisen. Like much of the tracklist, due to the diversity of instruments, it’s a difficult song to pin on a map.
Tying things together, closer “Day Stretch” has a culminating, stop-what-you’re-doing-and-just-listen quality. It seems to rally things together, consolidating the tones, instruments, moods, everything. Perhaps the most level-headed track, there is more viable purpose, as the duo reflect upon their voyage. There is background chit-chat and clamour drowned out by meditative tones and melodies, resembling the homecoming after a rewarding trip of self-discovery; the sounds of inner peace are still resonating, and you might wanna be alone with them a little while longer. Newman and Underwood might not trailblaze, but they share a love for journeying without set-in-stone goals, letting thoughts and emotions come and go as they may. I'd argue that's the best way to travel.
