Small Life Form is eerie. Picture the items making these sounds. Textures feel metallic. Melodies stay hidden among so much manipulation. Everything here is heavily filtered, leaving no trace of its origin. The drone is utterly doomed. Light is hidden on here. All that remains of the sounds are their shadows serving more as a reminder than as a specific hook in its own right.
‘Voice in the Sky’ begins with far-away machine gently buzzing. Things remain extremely quiet during the first ten minutes. Sounds linger on beyond their allotted time. Little fragments of near melody appear out of the molasses. As soon as they come out of the far-off buzz they submerge once more into the mire. Around the ten to fourteen minute mark Small Life Form gets cozy. ‘Voice in the Sky’ gets a little warmer in tone. The sound comes close to inviting. Pings in the distance reminds us of an unseen geography, of the unknowable place where these sounds live. Right from the thirty minute mark the guitar makes itself felt. Here Small Life Form feels the need to turn away from the distance and approach the listener directly. Finally at the very finish we hear the small phrases and words from the writer. As expected it is a dark outlook, extraordinarily unhappy. Yet the voice at the end gives it a more approachable feel, like there are humans behind these machines.
This is one of the most sedated pieces I’ve heard for a long time. Listen to it late at night with little distraction. It’ll gently lull you to sleep.