Kelly Kirwan
“I let my youth slip / I let my youth go / Can we go back in time / When we took things slow?”
A deep unfolding synth surrounds the lyrics, a crinkling wave that washes across Karaocake’s opening track on their latest album, Here and Now. Camille Chambon’s voice cuts through the melody—with all its blips of futuristic synth and the digitized likeness of an organ—in a nonchalant, monotone pitch. "Youth Slip" is a backwards glance that teeters between nostalgia and an apathetic understanding of how the past is written in stone. It plays on an old adage, that youth is wasted on the young, with somber, chamber-pop flourishes and some avant-garde garnishes.
It’s no wonder that this is our first taste of the duo’s new work (with Stéphane Laporte as Karaocake’s other half), which explores our relationship to time—it’s constraints, and how it bends with our perception. "Youth Slip" is a song that longs for what was, and it’s no surprise that its accompanying video is cobbled together from long-held VHS footage, panning between a group of boys jamming together with a silly demeanor.
"Mother of it all" opens with a stream of static, drawn with misty, '80s-influenced synths and a quick-footed beat. Chambon’s voice is softer than it was in "Youth Slip," fleshed out with a bit more intonation as the beat chugs along, arcade-inspired beeps skittering (subtly) in the background. “Nothing could be said or could be done / Now I know you’re gone / You, the mother of it all,” we hear as the melody builds, and there’s a distinct feeling of forward motion.
"Mothers & Fathers" serves as an ode to (yes, you guessed it) our parents. It’s a slower, softer song, with light, swerving synths and still more space-age, computerized bleeps dotting the melody. "Sometimes they fail / To be what is expected of them / Don’t regret the things you’ve done … There’ll be time for us to heal, I’m sure.” It’s a heartfelt letter from child to parent, and the lyrics have a bit of an edge while still being softened with forgiveness.
Here and Now is a tightly-crafted album. The music matches the geometry of the album art, comprised of neat intersections that feel like an interdimensional maze. I recommend you explore it.