(Image courtesy of Orchid Tapes)It’s really difficult to talk about “Ontario Gothic,” the second dreamy LP from Warren Hildebrand’s Foxes in Fiction, without indulging in a conversation about aesthetics. Both the genre of bedroom pop and Orchid Tapes — the Brooklyn-based independent label founded by Hildebrand — are prized for their aesthetic value. The former is the official genre of melancholy folk prone to spending hours laying in bed, admiring how late afternoon light comes through the blinds and the latter is a damn good purveyor of musical accompaniment for such settings.
Now home to sad and dreamy acts like Alex G, Coma Cinema, Elvis Depressedly and Ricky Eat Acid, Orchid Tapes was initially founded in 2010 by Brian Vu and Hildebrand as a vehicle for Foxes in Fiction’s first LP, “Swung from the Branches.” Of this union, Hildebrand said, “It felt good meeting a group of other sad weirdos that recorded music from home that I felt like I genuinely connected with, even through something as seemingly alienating as the Internet.”
Out of the clinical glow of the World Wide Web, however, Orchid Tapes has repeatedly given life to great, intimate albums. Its packaging plays a large part in this. Last March, for instance, Orchid Tapes released a small vinyl run of the ambient “Three Love Songs” by Ricky Eat Acid. Limited to only 250 copies (pressed in either opaque baby pink or transparent vinyl), each one included a personalized thank-you note, a piece of candy and an oolong tea bad stamped with the Orchid Tapes logo.
The music itself is surreal and haunting — perhaps best described by the title of track 8, “In My Dreams We’re Almost Touching.” The album — much like the work of Foxes in Fiction — seems to encapsulate the space between waking and sleeping, the porous line between beauty and despair. In age of overwhelming, corporatized sterility, it’s hard not to be drawn in by such an intimate product, produced by a loose collective of friends out an apartment in Brooklyn.
It’s the ideal backstory for “Ontario Gothic,” and because no art is consumed in a vacuum, free of context, these aesthetic concerns are folded into the listener’s experience of the album.
So, it’s relevant to note that vinyl orders of the album (pressed in either coke-bottle green or cyan blue and limited to 500) come with a hand-printed 11” x 17” poster, a thank-you note, guava candy and oolong tea. However, for those who just opt to download the album from Bandcamp (you can name your price!), five video loops (trees, falling flowers, boys facing away from the camera, etc.) are included to compliment your listening experience. Hildebrand just “gets” that for devout bedroom pop worshippers, there is more to the experience than just the music.
But, don’t you worry — aside from all these aesthetic considerations and narrative context — “Ontario Gothic” is one well-crafted, refreshing sip from the well of dream pop spread out across seven, lush tracks and broken into two distinct acts via the instrumental break of “Amanda,” with well-incorporated visits from Owen Pallett and Orchid Tapes’ Julia Brown.
“Ontario Gothic” picks up several of the emotional threads woven in the static-heavy ambience of “Swung from the Branches” (the strongest being the death of Hildebrand’s teenage brother in 2008). Here, though, these themes become more than simple atmospheric sketches.
Lyrically, we find our protagonist “trapped under concrete,” “confronting the fear that’s on your breath,” walking “down endless hallways” and with “no strength to fight back the waves.” These obviously err on the melancholy side, but when they’re all whispered on an album titled “Ontario Gothic,” no one is surprised. In fact, they seem right at home, which is not to say that one will leave “Ontario Gothic” with an oceanic sense of depression. Nah, man, the real beauty of Foxes in Fiction comes from Hildebrand’s ability to invoke both sadness and ethereal beauty in his songs.
The album really hits its stride at about the 2:10 mark of “Into the Fields,” when a plush volley of synths envelop the listener in the crisp, cool sheets of a soothing dream. This dream is not disturbed as we drift through the rest of the album. This is, in large part, the goal of Foxes in Fiction. Hildebrand seeks to “create a listening experience that provided people with a deeply comforting and psychological healing effect, like that that I experienced from certain music during my times of suffering,” he said on his website (note: the music Hildebrand refers to includes Atlas Sound and Brian Eno).
The album’s waning sunshine, dreamy-type vibes seem especially suited for easing the instability in a time of transition. Hildebrand even refers to the album as an “autumnal record” on his blog — which is relevant for those who live in a climate with seasons. Foxes in Fiction, thus, is a prescription best suited for those that appreciate a sense of unity between the various aspects of their lives — who feel at peace when the lighting in their bedroom, their emotional weather and the music pouring from their speakers all seem to inexplicably match.
“Ontario Gothic” could very well become the new altar at which dream pop devotees worship.
(Disclaimer: your reporter is, admittedly, one such bedroom pop devotee and the host of a radio show that favors dreamy vibes over almost everything else. Subsequently, his views may be swayed considerably by the sheet power of his addiction. The best advice he can offer is that you simply seek the album out for yourself.)
Reach the reporter at Zachariah.Webb@asu.edu or follow him on Twitter @zachariahkaylar.
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