SHREYA BOSE
inward. The songs are either intensely relatable, or
a cause for question. You can nod and say “This guy
gets me” or simply tilt your head and go “Huh?”
INDIE
reviews
The Only Find (Sri): Songs written
by Srijit Bhowmick are best
sung to oneself sitting by rain-
blasted windows. These decidedly
introspective compositions are
matched by a voice cronning in tones
of invocation. Imagine the dishevelled
prophets spitting out revelation beside
dusty backroads and menacing neon
city glows of Beat poetry, and you
will hear an echo of the same in Sri.
The EP pivots on lyrical compulsion. Srijit veers
between obscure and obvious, making liberal use
of personal metaphor and pointed symbol.
Unfairly, you tickled my bones
Better than I can have and
You better rule my heaven
Can’t seem to find
The beat, and I unfairly
Isolation is impossible to miss; the lyrics depicting an
almost crippling alienation. Take the following:
Well, I’m having fun
Sitting all by myself
You know, it’s getting tough
To keep on, but I’ll instead
This tragedy, I’m trading
Of living but for today
Would it kill, would it heal
Would it give away fun
Srijit broods throughout, modulating his impressive
vocal range to create curious effect. Vocally, he projects
to the skies, but the words he wields are strictly focused
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The music is interesting, especially when you invest in the
words and pick at them until they surrender meaning. They
are just as easy to dissociate from meaning; consider the
EP one man’s confession. Either way, it generates a desire
to wonder, dissect and resign - depending on who you are.
Antahkarana (Nkshtra): A shorn,
elegantly crinkled bassline can
carry a track on it's own weight,
and Divyesh Gholap AKA Nkshtra
is distinctly aware of this.
Antahkarana provides the perfect
soundtrack to subterfuge, thanks
to underwhelming but addictive
strings, keys and a percussive
element so light that it practically
resembles an actual breeze.
Though mellow, the track generates substantial intrigue.
Despite no breathtaking sonic gymnastics, it certainly
would add to a low-key gathering of curious minds and
slightly drunk eyes. Gholap labels it folk electronica,
even though the Indian classical influence primarily
props up some fascination in what is basically chillhop.
Instead of inducing torrid analysis, Antahkhana
invites the listener to lounge, and if so inclined, gr.
Summer Skin (Parekh & Singh):
Immersive as ever, the dream-
weaving duo stay true to their
otherworldly ethos with their
new release, which serves as
a glimpse into their upcoming
sophomore album. The song is
redolent of their characteristic
innocence, often borne
from the folksy dissociative
power of those wind-chime
instrumentals. However, the innocence starts to show
edges of erosion, being touched by lyrics that betray
the early emotional resignation of adolescence.
“There’s no Beatle song that can change my mind” is the
kind of thing you say when you face the sweet bitterness
of first defeats. “I ponder the momentariness of life” and
“There’s no Woody Allen film that can slow down time”
are the incantations of youthful frustration, and coat
their intrinsic angst with borderline schoolboy charm.
Musically and visually, this duo inhabits a liminal artistic
space. They create spaces with their sounds; wistful,
ineffable, sentimentally-skewed, surreptitiously painful
spaces. It takes some deep diving to ferret out the underlying
desolation in a Parekh & Singh song - a most worthy
quest. Melancholy takes a more forward role in this track,
and echoes of a fallacious humanity become visible.
Lush, verbose and utterly undemanding, Summer Skin
is a messenger of joy. Like all Parekh & Singh songs,
it becomes an intimate friend, revealing intimate
secrets and promising to keep them at the same
time. I promise, that you will feel those fairy-world
synths reach out in both sorrow and solidarity.