Nohidea
Departures
Alpha Pup Records
By William Sheehan
Five-panels and paper-mache conceal the post-chill delirium that bastes a colorful timbre; an entertainer’s anonymity is a right just like anyone else’s. As manufactured as his identity may be, those that haven’t picked up on it by now just won’t get it.
Afterall, a departure is what it is – if we’re gonna, and this is a throwback, compare it to the stop-start vinyl crack of chapter one’s dreamt visage. Departures’ temp sits in the minus, joining a league of masked electronic artists unabashedly staking their claim on found sound.
It’s all there; the growth, the maturity… And that’s not just a cheap gather of facetious social media quips or the $4.20 price tag. The crackle’s gone, and in its place, a subdermal throbbing that circles your head like a cartoon-star trope.
While he’s already hard to track, Nohidea’s performance element is lacking – suspicious when you consider the two-album track record and growing fanbase. As if backburning a live show is was something to gloat about; perhaps its a general gravitation to the void – drawn to produce with an unconscious touch. Pneumatic, even.
Departures is the soundtrack to a film that hasn’t been made yet. Seamless transitions mimic the 90s as Richard D. James subtleties find their way into the more memorable tracks: purity, reflection of loss, and single promissory note featuring prolific lyricist Looms.
