On the opening track, “Baby, You’re Disharmonic,” the repeating synthetic vocal ‘ooohs’ are parasitic leeches, immediately stuck to my skull and creating a symbiotic relationship with my entire essence. Nostalgic synth pads creep in, rising like neon vapor into the midnight skies. In only three minutes, Anders Brørby creates an entire world. I can smell petrichor mixed with cotton-candy sweetness and feel the light, cool mist against my skin.
Walking these streets, voices and rhythms intersect, a disembodied voice begging, “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful.” In other spaces, it could seem vapid, but in Brørby’s colorful laments, we are only as deep as our digital roots and only as lithe as our vulnerability. Each chord becomes an imaginary memory implanted at the edge of lucidity and delirium. But those ‘ooohs’ keep calling, a fluorescent breadcrumb trail leading back to the solace of youth. “Baby, You’re Disharmonic” is utter perfection.
Constant Shallowness Leads to Body Horror offers more, but everything there is to know sings in the electronic ravines of “Disharmonic.” Sure, there’s the stinging crunch of “Pre-sports or Spending Time Indoors” or the blurred-out drones of “Soap Shop Pop,” but once that opening hook sinks in, it stays forever and it doesn’t matter where else we go. Constant Shallowness Leads to Body Horror is excellent.
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