Skee Mask - Resort
Ilian Tape
Off the back of the 100-minute Pool in 2021 and the refreshingly calm buzz of Compro in 2018, the Ilian Tape native's latest instalment revels in that signature mellow mood - upbeat melancholy. Over the years, Skee Mask has made a name for himself with his densely layered worlds of tasteful electronic leaning material. Resort sits firmly within the 'dense' descriptor - impenetrable, but wide enough to not exist at all.
An inseparable mix of upbeat and laidback - one feeds the other. There's no up without down, and so on. A lulling drift pulls you along a lovely wash of rubbery, metallic ambience. Ear-to-ear immersive. Soul-to-soul entrenched. Lush like a candy floss tornado - pink-swirled and pillow-y. A foreboding of the beautiful. Lost at sea, but it feels right. Not all who wander are lost. There's a weird warmth to not knowing the next step; it's a mystery to be unravelled; a fear to be confronted. Subtle steps when feeling for the moment. Patience in times of ambiguity. Many a path, but no obvious option. Missing a step, but the missing step brings character. It ain't all bad. When the tide turns, it won't be all good either. That's alright. Holding on only mis-shapes the magic, dulls perception.
Standing outside of the club. A distant spectator. Inside, soul enforcing sounds wobble away at the invisible stitch which holds the threads of life together - the intangible strings that define the fabric. The between the between. The magnetic tides which pull and repel. No rhyme. No reason. As it ever was and as it ever will be. To define it is to miss it. To miss it is to waste it. To waste it is to not be here at all.
Those country lanes aren't gonna walk themselves.
