Shrouded in the forest greens and navy blues of the Pacific Northwest, Portland’s Jan Julius transmits anatomized synth pop that cyclically fractures and repairs itself as its aforementioned operator drips somber verses into the machinery.
“i’m not trying to make my parents cry again”
Like Kane West and Youth Lagoon before him, Julius works in constrained spaces, painting with the residual emotion that oozes from the cracks in their walls. The arrangements that make up “death for julius” are sparse: an organ’s looped chord progression throbs in the right speaker as glassy bubbles of melody burst in the left. The sampled hiss of a faucet fills of the mix. Clunky scraps of drum machine often miss their mark as they patter against the tune’s gloom.
Julius’ vocals, heavily infused with reverb, bleed through the surface like the refracted outline of a diver. Reach into the wiggling form and all you’ll get is water.
“no one knows but i’m probably not well”