by Sara Mae (@veryverynoisy)
Almost caramelized in its satisfying melodies and carousel-giddy electronic production, Special World’s self-released self-titled EP dropped this June. Based in Philadelphia, Special World, the solo project of Andy Molholt’s (Speedy Ortiz, Laser Background) sound finds kinship with bands like Twin Princess, Aunt Katrina, even a little bit of Finom. Some layered high and light vocals, boomeranging wonky guitar, and the sound of glass shattering lead off the album.
“Cloak In The Attic” gives mention to the titular cloak “obscured by a flowering gem” in the lyrics which feels as though it primes the listener for the sticky, strange, delightful rumination of this EP. There is a nostalgic, almost VHS tape sound left lingering to finish the song. “Ykiwysi” is gauzy, clowny in its cut-up touches of fill and distorted vocals. There is some Dr. Dog clanging and dissonance that gives way to reflective softness at the tail end. A strength of this EP is it’s ability to go from delicious weirdness to solemnity and have them feel cohesive, two parts of the same whole.
“Delta P” has some Architecture in Helsinki drums to open. The progressively deepening vocals are fun and unsettling, like a helium balloon in reverse or a slowly malfunctioning jack in the box. Molholt proclaims “I don’t believe in luck / or perhaps I don’t roll the dice enough” followed by walls of compressed techno sound and a glorious build, the slow low voice holding out euphoric, abstracted notes.
“Elowyn” does a record-skipping take on a reflective aughts tune, with a chugging clarity that comes 45 seconds in. Sweet and surprising vocal melodies, both catchy and unexpected, up and down, reflect on perceptions of each side of a relationship, “Wait around for half a year, Elowyn, you’re still my friend,” the tenuousness reflected in the melody. An 80s brat pack handful of techno sounds flutters in the back. The warm sadness of this song make it a standout on the record.
“Desertenko” is danceable, spare and robotic, layering what seem to be field recordings, Doppler effect car horns, people’s voices making up the spine of the track. “5.0” sounds like the arrival of a cartoon villain at times, at others, a chrysalis opening, struggling and reaching wails, chimes, some foggy organ. Swimming through its murky depths are glimpses of string arrangements, dark, eerie, and shiny.
“Mr. Shadow” begins how a Mountain Man song might, if the Scream voice distortion were laid over the harmonically strange and beautiful vocals. When a clearer voice comes through singing “Little doves” there is a sunlight rupture. “Those wings that hum” is a line repeated throughout, which creates a building relief and freeness, accompanied by a goofy horn, a Magic School bus era synth clambering upwards. It moves in backwards sounding steps away from the melody of the song, a de-familiarization to close the record.
Special World is a dreamy listen for the summer doldrums because it has the ability to articulate the uncomfortable but warm feelings specific to this season — deep digs through an attic’s ephemera, tepid friendships, tricks of light you can almost see, but cannot entirely explain.