“Shukuchi (縮地) is the Japanese word for the power of teleportation. Those possessing this ability were believed to be capable of moving vast distances in a single step.”

SOPOR is a portal. The listener begins by reclining into the insulation chamber depicted in the album art. The lights dim; the chamber’s roof seals you inside, but that’s alright, you are comfortable here. You are scarcely aware of ‘here’ anymore, as before your eyes a simulated image starts to play, though you aren’t sure if it plays on the chamber’s inner surface or your own inner-eyelid vision. Warm liquid pours into the chamber at exactly body-heat temperature, you can only just feel it as you submerge, and you experience no shock when breathing is as natural as air. Incubated in this cybernetic ovum, your mind extends to unitless infinity, and consciousness steps gracefully over the vast distance between this world and the eternal.

SOPOR is an ambient-atmospheric gem of dreamy synths and soft, alien sampling. ‘Drone’ makes a showing, although the word implies a harshness of experience that is nowhere to be found on the record. Much more accurate are ‘wave’ and ‘vapor’, as the listener is effortlessly lifted, as though by a swelling of deep tidal currents, to a floating state so potent that one can directly perceive the cloudy masses of other gaseous minds drifting through the electropsychic plane. SOPOR is vaporwave in tooling and heritage, but it eclipses its predecessors so powerfully one is left wondering whether the former even happened at all, or if it was simply another dream of the strange and haunting creatures that swim through this ethereal, real reality.

A track-by-track analysis is out of the question. The ghostly transitions from one phase of audio to the next are quite neatly lost upon the lazily sailing awareness. The listener is encouraged to amplify this effect by selecting the crossfade option in their media player of choice. As naturally as fauna spring from the banks of a meandering river, sensations of spectral presences emerge between the sweeping, whispering instrumentals and delicate textures of this soporific odyssey.

The artist in question claims to live in Russia. Their repertoire is considerable, and seems to have sprung suddenly out of their cranium on a late April midnight. The art, apparently made in-house, adheres to an aesthetic few have managed to capture. The sound and character of each release is easily distinguishable from the last, suggesting that every one of these anonymous portals leads to its own far-flung micro-universe. The listener may choose to own the entirety of the hyper-cosmos for less than a pair of Big Mac Combos.

If you’d like to download SOPOR by 縮地 you can find it on bandcamp: here.