Julian Lynch crafted the chillest album I’ve heard all year.
First off, watch the video. Starting off innocuously and traveling through the same dreamy territory as the song itself, it’s a perfect realization of Lynch’s fractured hazy diamond of a single. It should also induce an urge to go bicycling, now.
But read on first, and grab his latest album, Terra, for the perfect accompaniment to a peaceful day in the sun, stars, riding or otherwise.
I should admit I’m an avid cyclist and thus was duly struck when the above video found its way to my laptop: not only did the music and motion capture the ineffable beauty of riding, the tune itself wormed its way into my skull and nagged at my soul until I went and grabbed the full album. Being the first track and first single, it’s a fitting introduction to a man who apparently (and regrettably) flew under my radar for the past few years.
I’m smitten. Cradled somewhere deep between Syd Barrett and Arthur Russell, Julian Lynch scratches at a particular itch I’m often unaware of suffering; relief is no less sweet for the surprise. He relaxes with gentle acoustic guitar rhythms and a deft touch on percussion. He raises neck hairs with spare and incisive saxophone melodies, indulging just enough to leave me craving. Then the artful synth work sprouts and takes root, carrying these solar powered hymns aloft. The entire album bursts with the furtive sense of discovery and openness set forth by its opener, flaring into comforting and unexpected delights with equal joy.