Leixlip-based musician Ogenblik's experiments in retrofuturistic production culminate in his debut album This Used To Be The Sound of The Future. Employing a range of outdated recording techniques, from dictaphones to the ill-fated MiniDisc, Ogenblik splices everything together with environmental acuteness, Frankensteining innocuous acoustic guitar melodies into more pressing statements on the diminishing shelf-life of technology and human interest.
This simulacrum works best on tracks like "Móinéar", which takes many twists and turns, visiting the sounds of bees buzzing as it delivers a soaring guitar melody and steadfastly automated drum patterns. Things on TUTBTSOTF never stray far from buoyant and lighthearted sonic experiments; even the interlude "We Haven't Played In Ages," which incorporates more sinister and distorted shades, falls back to simple beauty. Likewise, "Cladach", with its bodhrán spine and medieval guitar aesthetic, hints at something moodier but ultimately rests on the hopeful. "Coirt Crann" folds birdsong into its folktronica backbone, with fetching acoustic guitar melodies harmoniously roaming around a computerised beat with a snare sound so crunchy you'd swear you were stepping into fresh snow. This one-note approach to mood would've been a drawback had the mood not been so pleasurable. "Intinn Oscailte i D Oscailte" is dreamy in its watery movements, guitar lines lapping around the shore of a snappy beat, before the sound of a tape head mechanism shuts everything down to a drastic halt.
"Window Weather" has a child-like innocence as its counterpoint guitars communicate over the old chestnut of birdsong. "Foiseach" has a bit more energy and ambition, and its swells have an emotionally impactful effect. On the closing track, "An Duilleog Deireanach", Ogenblik affords himself more room for experimentation; tinny and glitched-up acoustic guitars that sound like they're calling from a payphone morph into a somber drone.
Despite its high-minded concept, This Used To Be The Sound Of The Future by Ogenblik may not be the most challenging record, though it is an enjoyable one. Mixing cute acoustic guitar lines with fractured beats and computerised sonics gives the instrumental music a voice—a voice which seems to be speaking from a graveyard for dead technologies, reminding you that the passing of time always leaves beauty and intrigue in its wake.
★★★½