What does Blurstem sound like?

Cloudy ambience that leaves a hazy steam of reflective thought in every curve and sound.

The review of ‘The Quiet Ache’ by Blurstem

Chris Bartels has been creating music for sensitive souls in various guises. Whether it’s as Elskavon, Olma, or Blurstem, the nuances for each project make them distinct from each other. For the ninth Blurstem album ‘The Quiet Ache’, Bartels is back in his softer, sofest energy. This is a 40-minute expression of the Winter of a soul, and of something just out of your grasp.

That description might sound a bit vague, but the entire album feels like that to me. Each of the ten tracks takes either felt piano, breathy and aural vocalisations, hues of guitars, and all kinds of Arctic and oceanic field recordings and paints them like watercolours onto the speakers. The album has a vintage, vinyl haze to it, like clouds blossoming and blooming. Whether it is from in-room hiss, spacious reverb, or the space to let notes from instruments fade away, the whole album evokes nostalgia.

What elevates Blurstem’s work is that melody is always key. ‘Evaded Minds’ has a beautifully subtle piano motif. ‘Melburst’ is a kaleidoscope of sound filters turning the piano into cavernous ice cracks, yet a melody remains. ‘Wilderfields’ is a brooding, resilient piano piece that lets the guts of the piano tremble in broad daylight. Even when things get more drone-like, the title track allows the hazy synths and reverbs to convey melodic numbness. The big centrepiece of the album is the nearly 10-minute ‘In The Waiting’. The mixture of piano, synths, guitar whines, and sound effects evokes an iceberg adrift at sea. It is beautiful and bittersweet, as Blurstem ensures the track doesn’t feel fully resolved. The beauty slips through your fingers, and you yearn for that moment of peace once again. Another highlight is ‘Cloudysun’. Most of the base has been removed, leaving a cold, harsh, solitary feeling behind. The piano notes crackle as the world turns on.

Blurstem has referenced Wenest Hemingway’s ‘The Old Man and the Sea’ as emotional inspiration. He says that the quiet perseverance of the book stood out. Heroism is muted by loneliness – a bit like many explorers of the harsher climates of our planet. I love how the softness of the melody and the performance juxtapose the harshness of the effects around the music. It’s a ghostly comfort, but a comfort nonetheless. It’s what makes Chris Bartels’ work so special.

Recommended track: Cloudysun

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