If Silent Land Time Machine‘s debut album, & Hope Still (Indian Queen / Time-Lag, 2008) used an ampersand to shorten its title, then the follow-up 2012 EP is the complete opposite. Titled after a quote from Carl Jung as I Am No Longer Alone With Myself And Can Only Artificially Recall The Scary And Beautiful Feeling Of Solitude, this six track EP, which is released on a limited edition 180g clear vinyl, is a darker affair, experimenting with abstract electro-acoustic sound at the extreme territories of folktronica and avant-garde. This is not exactly an afternoon of easy listening, but then again, listening should never be that easy. Compare those efforts with the endless work that went into construction of any project (and this one in particular) and you begin to appreciate the intricate layers the are impossible to unfold, and so you try again. Finally, after numerous listens, the sound gives in, like a stubborn child or a shy first love. But when it finally does, it surrenders completely and unconditionally, and now you are the guardian, in charge of steering its destiny to safety. The cover art of the record features photographs of monuments in former Yugoslavia, dedicated to honor the people perished in concentration camps during WWII. The subtext on the inlay offers a somber view on the cause of this tragedy, crediting various governments and their policies with the industrializing warfare for the sole purpose of their own economic agendas. And whereas Jung was examining the “shadow side of the fortune of love”, SLTM is ultimately reflecting on the dingy shadows of ourselves. In this context the record becomes a tribute of its own. But instead of mourning the collective insanity it celebrates the awakened state of being here in recognition of the dark that lurks beneath. Released on his very own Indian Queen Records this EP is recommended for fans of post-apocalyptic pseudo-psychedelic shadow-rock.

The amalgamation of superbly organized sound fragments presented on this amazingly underrated hunk of wax feels much like a dreamland one enters through the heart before it’s time-released into the corridors of the mind, following a crucially healing journey set to euphoric, distant worlds. The intensity of a thorough joy and chunky doses of eloquent melancholy collide so effortlessly, it’s as if these sounds were always meant to be together. When listening, one gets an impression of intense storms brushing over quiet land. A heartfelt transmission from another planet – a striking sound that harkens the retreat to imagination. There is a special fuel inside this music that unlocks hidden worlds, fully able to recharge the life back into any irreparable soul that hears it. The key is to listen.In odd ways, I can hear bits of possible inspiration as other albums and artists seep into the mix, but not altogether resulting the same effect: Benoît Honoré Pioulard Plays Thelma, Duane Pitre Origin, Battles Mirrored, and Belong October Language come to mind, but I’d prefer not to compare the creative pursuits assembled and executed here on this EP. It would diminish the intent of this album’s effect. Too original for words and completely unlike SLTM’s unmatched debut in terms of music displayed, this release is FAR more advanced and deserves much closer inspection as willing listeners feed off its potent energies. Pay tribute with your heed. Brewing like a storm through a rush of beauty, well-designed string arrangements jigsaw through a fog of disdain with promise of hope, always hope. A fury of emotional tides add power to this stable sound. An endeavor so original, this unparalleled talent creates an outlet of both relief and escape for each listener to spill themselves into … and when it’s over, emerge a new being.