A folktronica peek into a cherished keepsake box of tape loops and memories

Memories are lined with a bittersweet erosion. Time tarnishes them, but we cherish them all the same. If we carry them with us, we must accept and appreciate them, even as they change.

Everything about the folktronica ornament goodbye, world!, makes clear the emotions it holds. The picture of a stuffed elephant toy, a memento from someone’s childhood; song titles that remind one of moments and places; the dedication to a dear friend. Everything interacts with that melancholy that gradually coats our faded memories.

Through crumpled ambience, miffle observes life’s layered radiance in the rearview. The spirit of each memory she processes is contained in frozen white static. There is the ghost of a heartbeat, but it has slowed, and now plays corroded and jittery. the city is calm at this hour, across its chimes and plucks, is a collage of diluted tape loops and fractured recordings. An ever-growing pang that is cushioned by swells of violins.

These artefacts are in varying states of disrepair. cold concrete glows under the moonlight and the invisible girl breeze through, letting shimmery ambience and brittle acoustics glow. Cleaner and closer memories.

The woody timbre of acoustic guitar that emanates from digital blizzard and remnants of a dream weighs heavier, though. Frigid field recordings snowball over lilting folktronica, but the melodies persist like a stubborn face or memorable image in the mind’s eye.

Long walk home (you exist in my frozen memories forever) is apt in length and tone. The eight-minute sound collage track emerges with rich organic instrumentation and the crunching of frost underfoot, before the snow crashes in, distorting and chilling this memory of a homeward journey.

This crescendo lasts for four minutes, with prideful violins seeping through towards the end, before the titular closer. The ghostly hurrah of how these memories linger on their last figments. The last few notes of a guitar are left hanging on haunting ambience, surrendering eventually as reality now enters the final parts of the song. The opening of a door, the purring of a cat, and a tape loop being stopped. Banal existence in the present, the orchestra of memories brought to a close.

Memories never exactly die on goodbye, world!, but lie frosted in the snowy paths of miffle’s tape recordings. They constantly flicker. This should be devastating, but in fact, it is life-affirming. The artist has shared with us a frail object of immense sentimental value. In the end, we never say goodbye; we leave traces for everyone to hold onto.