Review Summary: A beautiful vacuum
Rare, Forever feels hollow. For most artists, such a statement would likely imply the existence of a rather disappointing record: for Leon Vynehall, it’s a convincing testament to his strengths. Rather than letting the music get consumed by emptiness, the producer envelops his rhythms and atmospheres in a unique vacuum, rendering the record an excellently monotonous experience.
The album’s best moments find themselves rooted in minor, muted experiments. ‘Alichea Vella Amor’ succeeds at reducing its jazzy patterns to a hazy minimum, while remaining entirely distinguishable and ultimately hypnotising. Similarly employed repetition can be explored on the transcendent ‘An Exhale’, where Vynehall bathes dreamy motifs in gentle waves of trance; occasionally exploding, yet leaving more than enough space for both the song and listener to breathe. Spread throughout
Rare, Forever, such moments of calm not only add to the record’s textural depth, but also afford it its cohesive properties. Unlike previous projects by the artist, the album does not follow a particular concept or storyline, instead fully relying on the fabric of its sound and arrangements to achieve similarly successful results.
‘Farewell! Magnus Gabbro’ and ‘All I See Is You, Velvet Brown’ close the album on two eerily abstract notes. Distilling the glitchy eruptions of ‘Dumbo’ into a combined seven minutes of densely layered drone and ambient, the closing moments feel like an inevitable comedown. While being the most minimal tracks on
Rare, Forever, they appear less empty; more filled with the beautifully desolate patterns that preceded. As such, the album neither overstays its welcome nor neglects prospects: its ominous finale appears to hint at a more replete and hopefully equally beautiful future. For now, the intricately captivating vacuum is ours to bask in.
