On Zelienople’s Tumblr, there’s a photo post captioned “Summer in the city.” Strata of sable sky weigh heavy on a streetlamp washed in briny green. These are summer days for Zelienople: sky-gazing, images of submersion.
Zelienople’s music, appropriately, makes me feel supine in a field. Albums that sprawl are usually frustrating for being stagnant; I’m not content just to float, I want to drift and/or dive. You know my feel. Zelienople’s The World Is A House On Fire has, however, remarkable movement. In all of these songs, there are many gaping beats, which threaten to sag and fall through, but the next step always comes. By the album’s third track, it’s impossible to not then listen to all seven.
The album is great. I wish only that when the music decides to move, it moved hard. That said, “Out of It’s” ending is the finest I can imagine for the The World Is A House On Fire. You’ll say, “Shit. I’m thinking of the kind of film whose last frame leaves you dead in your seats, a book whose last page’s white space leaves you staring like at the summer sky. ”