Review Summary: A haunting, enrapturing journey
Hauntology is a musical concept that’s tickled my brain for years and yet, if asked, I still struggle to come up with a concise definition. Actualizing (or even waxing on about) the feeling of an unrealized, abandoned future through music is a level of sonic witchery best left to those more talented than I. Thankfully, veteran left field bass practitioner Of The Trees certainly fits that bill.
Of The Trees, also known as Tyler Coombs, hails from Maine and climbed to relative fame during the 2010s’ festival circuit. The period found bass music in the midst of a schism. Following the brostep explosion of the decade’s early years, the mainstream sound moved increasingly to a swampy, repetitive and abrasive style known as riddim. At the same time, darker shades of dubstep championed by artists like Truth and The Widdler percolated beneath the surface alongside trippier offerings from producers like Of The Trees. And I'll be honest, this subgenre of neo-hippie bass music was not my cup of tea at the time. When I was in the scene, I had little interest in sitting around at a festival listening to some wook drip on about how DMT opened their third eye, right before they asked me for a smoke. Consequently, I'd heard Of The Trees in passing, but never dug in despite his renowned production skills. But this album is making me rethink that stance.
Instead of producing the wompy basshead catnip I'd remembered, Of The Trees choose to craft a haunting journey through the imagined
Moonglade Park. Listening evokes a sense of wonder, of soft-focus memories wreathed in a hygge haze, the smiling faces of half-forgotten friends that never come entirely into focus. The retro synths are punctuated by reverb-soaked vocals that slide away and rebound, the sound of car doors opening and engines starting, birds chirping and lush bass plodding along. It feels like summer, real summer, before the unending heat and smoke appeared. It's a verdant spectre haunting the listener through their headphones, cranked loud to block out the buzz of an air purifier.
At the same time not everyone enjoyed this album. One of the biggest criticisms I've seen is its lack of enough “bangers.” But the record’s sole hype track, found in “Look Into My Eyes,” actually detracts from the album's overall vibe and flow. On its own, the song certainly deserves a spot on any space bass DJ’s USB, but the groovy bassweight feels like a rude interlocutor slumping through a forest of ghosts. There's also some lyrical cheese here and there, like on “Afterlight” where the guest lyrics feel a bit sophomoric.
Really,
Moonglade Park peaks when it's at its most ethereal, which thankfully is often. Look no further than the subdued garage grooves of “Pressure” that morph into a smoldering heater to see what I mean. Or the vibey future base turned house rhythms of “Dolori.”
I'd recommend this album for anyone interested in experiencing a spacey and exceptionally produced 38 minutes. It's perfect late night music, especially for solitary listening and reflection on the ghosts of futures that never arrived, and on those yet to come.
