Ant’lrd is sunroom music, not bedroom music.
Sunroom music = Evocative, beautiful tones full of glorious white space and picturesque chords, reminiscent of those rooms — everybody knows at least one; maybe your grandparents’ house or your uncle’s lake house — where at one wonderful time in the day, the sun pours in, filtered through heavy frosted glass windows in the ceiling, allowing you to float in just the right amount of warmth and to listen to the sounds of the forest pour in from the Earth’s speakers (a.k.a nature).
Bedroom music = You know, that cringe-inducing, condescending category of music created so blogs can remind everyone that the tapes and Bandcamp pages they spend hours pouring over are really the work of teenage amateurs taking advantage of the new-to-the-decade portability and quality of recording that can be achieved with minimal moolah. The problem with the term “bedroom music” is that it insinuates a lack of skill and that, therefore, it shouldn’t be taken seriously. Of course, it is entirely possible for literally anybody with half a brain to record music and throw it on Bandcamp. It doesn’t even have to make sense. Seriously; somebody could just make a bunch of shit, upload it in 45 minutes, and all it takes is one blog to label it “bedroom noise” and people are misconstruing it as “good.” There are also solo projects and monikers that have been labeled as “bedroom” that are actually amazing. Full of depth, creativity, and promise. It shouldn’t really matter whether or not it’s lo-fi, glow-fi, day-glo, fire-fly, or lite-brite; the quality of the music comes from the interpretations that can be made while listening to it, as well as the emotions and memories that can be chained together by a pleasant combination of sounds.
Ant’lrd is the work of one Colin Blanton, whose latest tape, extra domicile, fits in perfectly with loose, taiga forest vibes of Watery Starve, who released the tape. There are moments of concise sampling, where nostalgic loops collide with obscure percussive noises, driving the track sideways through time into alternate visions of a single instance. In some cases, this instance is a melody slowly unfolding under layers of nature-esque delay. Other times it takes the form of a single loop seamlessly melding with another, one that perhaps may fit at an earlier point in the album. Way out there, in the boundless fleeting instances in between notes, there is a galaxy of disorientating sound expanding like a Mandelbrot set. It makes me feel at home to be there.