"Out
of time, out of touch." That's exactly how I feel when I listen to the
debut album of Group Rhoda, the solo project of San Francisco's Mara
Barenbaum. Like fever dreaming, unsure if one is waking up back into
reality or if the dream is just beginning, there's a disorienting
sensation of having been dropped into the middle of an exotic,
unplaceable, detached nowhere realm. Synthesizers hiss and rise like
steam before tracelessly vapourizing into the night sky ("Virtual Dancer"). Jungly percussion melts and drips out of the humid atmosphere ("Hi Rise"). I can't help but envision sultry, Surrealist dreamscapes painted in glowing neons that fade to soft pastels, like Henri Rousseau's jungle scenes doused in Dali's runny aesthetic.
On first impression, Out of Time, Out of Touch
may seem thinly layered with very little to conceal. But listen closer,
and you'll discover a bounty of life: warm beats patter like paws on
the leafy, overgrown forest floor. Electronics blink in and out of sight
like fireflies. Shakers rattle like creatures rustling in the bushes.
You may feel an out-of-body lightness in this mirage-like environment,
but the tender crackles of branches and bug-eaten logs beneath you
remind you in your delirium of your weight. It's curiosity and intrigue
over this microcosmic world of mystery - at the time when all of the
unseen creatures of the night come to life and thrive (and feast) - that
pulls listeners into Group Rhoda's fantastic world.
Though Group Rhoda presents an inviting scene into her tropical world on her Magritte-like album cover (a more specific, difficult-to-find 1945 version of his painting The Human Condition also depicts a bedroom and an open door), Out of Time, Out of Touch
is not as innocuous as she leads one to believe. The open door and
added allure of a comfortable bed are like the vivid spots and stripes
on a frog: one can't help but be cautious of the poisonous dangers that
lay in wait in her brightly coloured world. "Can you hear me call?" she
asks no one in particular on "At the Dark," seemingly reading your mind. "'I'm looking at you / But you're not looking back," comes her reply on "Silence."
Though you still can't see or hear what's lurking in the dark, invisible to the naked eye, "Nightlight"
seems to depict the moment you realize without a doubt you're being
stalked. By then, it's almost too late: your pulse rises. Panic
intensifies. Desperation sets in. With no escape in sight, album closer "Fire"
best illustrates the frantic last dash for a way out after shaking free
from whatever mystical force has tried to wrap its seductive, predatory
spell over you. You stumble and trip - become entangled in vines as the
unseen prowls - and all you can hear is the siren's call ringing behind
you: "There is a light / You can stay, if you want to / Stay if you want
to / Stay if you want to." But if you've found yourself this deep in
the bush, you don't have a choice; Group Rhoda already has you where she
wants you.
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