Formations by Mileece (Review)

The album’s focus is more intent on creating dreamy textures rather than anything more concrete.
Formations - Mileece

Thanks to this young English lass, I have a regular addition to my bedtime playlist. That’s not quite the putdown it seems, because I think music can be a valid addition to any time of the day. And what time could be more important than when you’re heading off to dreamland? I don’t know about you, but I’d prefer to have something pleasant and soothing to send me off on my journey. As it just so happens, “pleasant” and “soothing” are two qualities this release has in abundance, almost too much so.

The subtle variations of nature — the fluctuations in plant growth, the randomness of raindrops, the fluttering fall of snowflakes — serve as the inspiration behind Formations. Images like that are quite appropriate for a track like “Aube” (no relation, I assume, to the Japanese noise master) or Formations. Swarms of gentle electronic tones flutter about, like the soft tinkling of wind chimes disturbed by a light breeze, or motes of dust suspended in beams of sunlight.

The album’s focus is more intent on creating dreamy textures rather than anything more concrete. The songs follow a seemingly random path, with the tones spreading themselves out sparsely only to then surround the listener in a dense cascade. This effect is much more apparent on headphones, creating a swirl of sounds that can be as disorienting as it is dreamlike.

However, many people will find these songs simply too random and/or sparse to be enjoyable. Despite the interesting textures that Mileece employs, her sound palette remains fairly limited. Even though she plays with their duration, brilliance, and intensity, one swarm of delicate tones often sounds much like another. At best, it’s highly reminiscent of Boards of Canada’s most ambient, pastoral moments (minus the funky beats) or possibly Oval at their softest and warmest. At worst, it sounds like a loose conglomeration of Nokia ringtones run through Fruity Loops.

The album’s most compelling track comes at the very end, with Mileece’s soft breathing setting the mood of “Nightfall.” This very human element sounds delightfully out of place, and almost sensual amidst her crystalline programming. If you’re listening with headphones, it might even induce a shiver or two. As the song develops, Mileece’s vocals drift on and on, beckoning you to sleep as cello fragments add necessary warmth and depth. It’s reminiscent of Múm’s most tranquil moments on Finally We Are Noone, and even of Lucid’s surreal lullabyes.

However, the real reason why it’s the album’s most affecting moment is simple; it’s the one with the most structure. Mileece can make intangible atmospheres with the best of them, but when they’re anchored (even by something as faint as breathing), the beauty finally has a chance to crystallize.

If you’re looking for a nice substitute for glitch, but don’t want to venture all the way back towards more conventional electronic music, than Mileece might be a nice change. It’s also brilliant music for programming, creating a calm, serene mood that I find quite conducive to churning out line after line of HTML and PHP. And, as I said before, it’s a fine album to fall asleep to. Unfortunately, the album’s loose nature causes these songs to disintegrate upon closer inspection. In the end, the various scientific concepts behind the album’s composition often become more interesting than the album itself.

Enjoy reading Opus? Want to support my writing? Become a subscriber for just $5/month or $50/year.
Subscribe Today
Return to the Opus homepage