It’s one of the great modern diseases. It sneaks into people’s lives and, often, doctors can’t even get a proper handle on exactly what is wrong. There is, because of this, a great stigma to admitting to battling anxiety, and, as long as the modern world ploughs ahead as it has, no way to solve it in one fell swoop.
But it can get better! This isn’t just me saying it (and I totally dropping my hat in the ring for this one), but artists searching for a creative solution to the problem. Color Theory uses the collection of music found on “This Bright Circumstance” to challenge the idea that anxiety is unsolvable, and delivers the pieces as would-be instruction books for those trying to find a way, looking to get some relief.
Ok, but just what should you expect? This is quite the undertaking. Is this just an assembly of sounds tuned to a particular frequency which miraculously renders you free of life’s troubles? Thankfully, no, it’s more than that. These are, for all intents and purposes, electro-pop songs.
Thrillingly, there’s a mix of old and new here. Check out “Where Tigers Are Said to Roam,” the opening track, for example. The vocal melodies and song structure might bring to mind the synth-pop pioneers of the early 1980s. However, all of the instruments, the artist assures us, are made using an ingenious piece of hardware, the Elektron Syntakt.
In fact, the use of the Syntakt throughout the record is the first reminder that modern life isn’t complete garbage, and that new tech isn’t just here to poison our brains and choke us senseless. The aforementioned synth-pop duos of the 1980s would’ve been astounded by the rhythmic and melodic possibilities afforded by such a small device.
Still, it’s the way that you use it, and Color Theory has a striking method for creating balanced, warm-sounding, attention-grabbing compositions. The mournful, swirling arpeggios of “When I Can’t Remember You” lead to a satisfying conclusion. “Undone”, with its almost 90s Depeche Mode mix of harsh beats and soft melodies, is all tied together by a strong vocal melody.
Even on “Thoughts Can’t Hurt You,” with its aggressive, pulsating bass and the beat that brings to mind early ’90s American dance music, the intention is to set the listener’s mind at ease. Meanwhile, “Flavor” is a song of acceptance of one’s shortcomings.
All this work with machines has to be balanced out somehow. And it’s the human voice, a mix of Erasure’s Andy Bell and modern soul singing, that helps to create the human connection.
Where does this all leave us? A bit more in tune, and a little less afraid, perhaps. The album’s final track, “The last Time” sounds almost triumphant as the singer promises that they’ve decided to move forward rather than look back. And, as you hear that confident man-machine sound, it’s hard not to feel a little hopeful about your own life.
