SHREYA BOSE
INDIE
reviews
Memories Found
(Siddhanth Kalmegh):
When someone writes a whole
EP inspired by someone
else they knew 4 years ago,
safe to say that they are in a
mood to confess. Kalmegh's
debut is deeply personal and
thoroughly uncomplicated.
Affection, nostalgia and edges
of a reluctant resentment
make up this enjoyable little
venture. It asks nothing of your
intellect, choosing instead of
engaging the listener's memory
by evoking familiar sentiment.
The five songs plunk around
with pop, pop-pop and bluesy
soundcraft to create a youthful,
college-charm laden ambience.
It is easy to ruminate on an
old love, as Kalmegh does.
But he displays an admirable
clarity in choosing which of
his past joys and agonies to
sing about. Instead of dwelling
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upon events, he stays vague
and sings about his soul's
meanderings during that
time. There is a refreshing
simplicity about listening
to songs that are just about
being a vulnerable human
who gets hopeful-melancholic-
curious-despairing.
Musically, Kalmegh tries
to stay on his toes. Instead
of sticking to lazy acoustic
chord-plucking that so
much of indie pop boils
down to, he plays around
with instruments, melodic
arrangements and quirky
lyricism. His songwriting is
fairly mature for a first shot,
even if he sings about the most
talk-about thing in the world.
Kalmegh doesn't exactly break
out the experimental toolbox,
but stays playful enough for
the listener to actually care
about what comes next.
Jangal (Soumik
Datta): Have you ever
found yourself in the
midst of a particularly
terrifying panic attack?
You can barely breathe,
your vision starts to blur
from the lack of oxygen,
your limbs tremble
uncontrollably. Your
entire body shrieks as it
slips out of your conscious
control. You do not know
why this is happening,
and you have never felt
so utterly powerless.
That is what the title track
of Datta’s new EP feels like
on a first listen. A heady
glut of Bombo drums,
synths and sarod exhale a
breathless tale of despair,
exhaustion and rage. An
exceptionally pleasant of
rhythms barely conceals
the artist’s sorrow at a
dying planet. But
the grief is conveyed
in terms of avid
experimentation.
The sarod refrains,
threaded off Mian ki
Malhar meets arpeggios,
glitchy amps and quirky
samples. Datta brings a
world of distortion to his
melody - a reflection of a
world without harmony.
Wildfire builds more
anticipation. The playful
intensity of percussion
is cinematic, pacing
tentatively and then
convincingly towards
an abrupt climax. The
story is quickly lost, and
you are left wondering
what you missed. Beast
takes it's time to build
ominosity. It's low hum
conveys dysfunction, and