a lot of the feelings that this evokes cannot be found in the music itself. or maybe they can? things that are imbued with enough love in their creation surely have enough to go off of and stir something up, even to someone who has very little present ability to understand why those notes mean what they mean.

the subtle effect(s) and stuttering intricacies, especially of Superhuman, are maybe the most characteristically stimulating part of the experience, felt as a diversion that both puts in focus the careful introduction after the fact and keeps later tracks from being seen as unassuming. without a doubt, it is exacting in its ability throughout at lulling you out of body, especially when listened to in a space as hypnagogic and blurry-eyed as its cover art. Sodalis (II) and some moments around it might be the only times that felt less outwardly vital, but all else abound—especially the first three tracks, It's Okay to Disappear, and the title track—has so much to offer.

and i don't think it needed vocals; to a certain extent, i think vocals would've ruined what it was going for. the perceived 'vacancy' of that register passed quickly, and the sounds that rung out were more than enough to satiate interest. and as it persists, the emotions stirred that i was even able to parse superseded anything that could've been spoken, sung, or articulated.

this isn't some fantastical piece of classical piano that i think breaks new ground—even for my shocking lack of experience in the genre and environment, i know that people have been making music near this realm for decades. but i can still feel something novel, maybe not in its methods but its presentation, its willingness to try to communicate across time. and when i listen to it, i can feel countless voices ringing in my head, telling me everything i need to know.