Desvanecer

One day I dreamt that you were no longer here.

Desvanecer–the latest EP from Mexican artist Leslie García aka Microhm–takes a glimpse into a world of abandoned spaces, hollowed structures; absence. Within the span of seven tracks, the artist explores the limits and crossovers between noise and ambience, utilizing rhythms of the Latin diaspora to conjure an electroacoustic future.

Among these compositions, such as nine-minute long "Nostalgia," Microhm combines colorful airy patches with droning atmospheres, melding the elements through hypnotic percussive rhythms that slowly unfold and retract–sometimes disappearing completely. During the dreamlike sequence of "Nostalgia," movement is constant. Pleasant shimmers suddenly collapse into foreboding rumbles; night terrors. Ephemeral flutters of light tease the listener before becoming overpowered by deep incantations of harrowing emptiness. The fourth track, "Silencio Cómplice" seems to be cut from the same cloth, though perhaps leaning further into despondence. The arrangement begins with hard kicks pulsing in a minimal dancehall rhythm, while a heavy drone emerges steadily. Drums weave in and out, pushing back beneath the subdued dread that builds through the murky atmosphere. "El Despojo" is not far off, where snares march through fields of unsettling ambience and surges of noise.

Yet within this project, Microhm also demonstrates interest in a sound that is more soft-spoken, delicate. "Sueño Premonitorio" could more or less be grasped as a progression of five chords across the span of three and a half minutes. The track's minimal arrangement and organ-tones give way to the sensation of entering a sacred space, the confines of a holy building or enclave. While there is an undoubtable feeling of absence that is manifest within these five sequences–and present throughout the rest of the record–"Sueño" seems to humbly acknowledge and perhaps revel in this emptiness, inviting the listener to take part in the rite.

Through the course of Desvanecer's thirty-four minutes, García does not present us with one complete conclusion or vision, but rather trickles of insight into a preordained future, a world not far from our own. Each track is beautifully mesmerizing and uniquely introspective; a fearless gaze into a space where absence is not devoid of change. Desvanecer is perhaps a ritual bidding of farewell; but equally so, it is the welcoming of a time when there are none of us left.