Reverse Death


I’m still mopping up some of the best bits from the tailwind of 2022, and if you missed this album from Seattle’s Reverse Death, it’s an argument to never stop listening through December. The record explores a dulcet cul de sac of sound that straddles fleecy psychedelics and fingerpicked folk. The latter sound is filtered through a thicker porridge of sound than the reference might let on. The band doesn’t dwell in the old water of what would have once been called American Primitive, a genre that’s been rightly recast in these past few years. While they’re want to ramble along similar axes, the aesthetics that fit over Stretching to Infinity are quite a bit damper and more humid than the average soli guitar dabble. The trio drench the record in a frigid, diaphanous coating that’s dipping its toes into Loren Connors and Flying Saucer Attack with eyes towards an almost New Age horizon.

The album wanders towards the haze, lost in a trance, getting glued into repeated phrases, let loose into nodes of jazz and psychedelic folk. There’s an air of dream-state that hangs over Stretching to Infinity, slowing down time and leaving the listener with a thick-headed sense of disorientation. Alongside the trio’s guitars and kit, the record employs wandering piano, flute, and viola, lending a sense of cinematic breadth to the album. Reverse Death pull off an album that’s deceptively simple on the surface, but once the listener pokes through the film on the top, the listener tumbles down endless corridors of subtle sound that’s worth the trouble getting lost.

Support the artist. Buy it HERE.

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