Picture yourself as a man in a far away future. Styles have come and gone hundreds of times by now. You find yourself right smack dab in the middle of yet another retelling of the jazz age: suits, hats, dresses, detectives, dames, whiskey, thick red lipstick, speakeasies, and, of course, jazz. It’s jazz everywhere: grocery stores, hospitals, funeral homes, clubs, and schools. It’s jazz all the fucking time. Probably has something to do with the heavy pollution that covers the entire floor of the earth in a thick fog. Or, maybe free form jazz makes sense when the world is this dark and ephemeral. Earth now looks like a lifetime smoker, cast into a wheelchair, that still smokes a pack a day despite the oxygen tank. We’ve given up on trying to save it, there’s no point to it anymore. It’s no longer about if, it’s about when. So, now there’s nothing left to do but stand on this hurling pile of rock and watch it turn into a pile of ash. Even Armageddon feels anticlimactic. And isn’t that just perfect somehow? No fire and brimstone, no crashing comet, we just fade away. Makes sense. You check in to the top floor of a hotel. At least the view will be nice.
This is the scene Miles To Midnight paints. Think I’m fucking with you? Think I’m being romantic? Look at some of these fucking songs titles: Miles To Midnight; A Thousand Empty Rooms; Scene Of The Crime; Floor 6, Please; The Other Lobby… Quiet Days on Earth. Look at that cover. Just look at it! You know I’m right. What’s great is, whatever form you want this scene to take, whether set in the future, the past, or the last thoughts someone has before losing their mind, it’s all yours. This isn’t a movie soundtrack or some shit, it’s the bare bones for your own imagination to tell a story. And, if you don’t want to think of a fucking story, the tunes are more than good enough to keep you going. But, be warned that this shit has a mood and it’s a calculated one.
So, usually when I throw something on Album a Day, I know what I’m talking about. I’ll know a bit of the history behind the artist or genre or whatnot. In this case, I have no fucking clue what the fuck this is or who the fuck these guys are. I’m pulling any info you see about them off their Bandcamp page or my ass. The three dudes working this album are called: Atrium Carceri, Last Broadcast and God Body Disconnect (Again, no fucking clue). God Body (Bruce Moallem) plays live drums on this bitch. Cities Last Broadcast (Pär Boström) throws in tape loops and the melodies. Atrium Carceri (Simon Heath) plays the piano and sets the bass. This album is made to create this dark jazz atmosphere soundtrack. It does its job extremely well. The purpose of this album (according to Simon Heath) is to make your own story using the bones of the cover and the song titles. You’re supposed to make a story up in your mind. But even if you just put this album on, it’s still a great mood. It’s a great find after miles of dense fog. So, put on a hat, turn down the lights, pour yourself a nightcap, and listen to this record. It transports you to places in your own mind you didn’t know were there.