Friday, August 1, 2014

CASSETTE REVIEW: Goodbye Ivan “The Lost Tape” (Dead Vox)


                Sometimes, what is lost is not meant to be found.   Sometimes, when something is lost though you’re glad you found it.   Wait… Haven’t I done this intro before?  Haven’t I written about a lost tape prior to this one?   Why does everyone keep losing their tapes only to find them later and put them?

                When it comes to this particular release by Goodbye Ivan which has the title of “The Lost Tape”, I don’t think of it as much of being a tape that had been misplaced in a physical sense only to be found and released later, but rather in the sense that one is lost as in not sure which direction to go in next.

                Side A begins with tones, clicks and beats and manages to keep a fast paced sort of electro vibe.  This, however, leads into some sad piano sounds and quietness with strings.   It is truly the sound of someone who has a physical mailing address but does not have a home.    Some sharp feedback gives way to acoustic bits now, as this maintains a generally quite vibe throughout Side A.    When you get the feeling from the music, it’s not quite sad and it’s not quite lonely, but the best way to describe it does simply to think of it as being lost.

                On the flip side, we begin with the sound of a record player needle and then there are these specific beeps that enter on a loop.   This all forms around beats and then it becomes sort of dreamy like The Cure or just general FNL somehow.   It ends with what I can only call the swirly-swirl and I can only assume that this is deliberate in its delivery because it sums up the first side and just compliments it so well.

                If the first side of this is about being lost and the realization that you don’t really have a place to call home, then the second side is definitely the acceptance of that.  It’s saying, “You know what, I might not have a home, but I’m okay with that”.   It’s admitting that you might be a wanderer or a nomad or even a gypsy and that’s fine because often times some of the greatest souls of artists cannot and should not be contained.








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