I pretty much made up my mind about Melody’s Echo Chamber’s self-titled debut album when I read someone else describe it as “Like living in a dream inside of a dream inside of dream-pop.” Done.
But you can’t control your dreams. Melody’s Echo Chamber is definitely a far-off, floaty dream of an album, but it’s a little too far-off. It’s so echoey and retro-futuristic in there, I can barely make out any words or discernible tracks. Melody Prochet siren-calls across space, passing synths and fuzzed guitars in search of something, but it’s not clear what.
I wish there was a little more substance to this freeze-dried moon pie. I just couldn’t remember much when it was over, except a high whisper whooshing by. Which was not unpleasant, just tiresome. This spacey, crunchy pop is a nap dream in an unfamiliar bed: nice enough, but strange, and a little shallow.
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