There is something wonderfully lazy in the tumbling sounds of Camp Dark’s debut offering. Not lazy in the sense of underachievement as the obvious attention to detail and rich textures point to the exact opposite, but lazy in the way the songs meander, move with a gentle lack of urgency and just move to the beat of their own drum. Its atmospheric pop vibes and cinematic qualities sit it somewhere between a film score and the urban trip-hop hymns of the likes of Portishead, Adam Svec’s vocals swaying between a traditional top line vocal delivery and a sound wash where the words themselves take a lesser role and the voice becomes an instrument in its own right.
Thirteen songs are woven from haunting electronica, musical ghosts in machines that seem to sound both futuristic and primitive, or at least elemental at the same time, like modern technology channelling the sounds of the earth, or the distant echoes of the birth of the universe. And the result of these chronological clashes is nothing short of beautiful, expressive, brave and intelligent, shot through with very intimate, passionate and direct connections with the listener.
