Mission Approximated: A Sonic Odyssey by Bren't Lewiis Ensemble
Released in 2018 under the Butte County Free Music Society label, Mission Approximated is a genre-blurring masterpiece that defies easy categorization. This U.S.-based project from Bren't Lewiis Ensemble dives headfirst into an eclectic mix of Rock and Electronic music while weaving elements of Musique Concrète, Free Improvisation, Psychedelic Rock, Sound Collage, and Noise into its fabric. The result? An album that feels like both a fever dream and a meticulously crafted experiment.
From the opening notes to its sprawling conclusion, this record grabs your attention—not always gently, mind you—but it keeps you hooked. Two tracks stand out as particularly unforgettable: "Ojii-Chan Applying Silver Paint To Iron Grating At Twilight" and "How Much Should I Tip The Gecko Watcher?"
First up, “Ojii-Chan Applying Silver Paint To Iron Grating At Twilight.” What a title, right? It’s one of those songs where you’re not sure if you’re listening to music or eavesdropping on some cosmic construction site. The piece opens with what sounds like metallic scrapes and distant hums before morphing into something almost melodic. There’s no traditional structure here—just layers upon layers of textured soundscapes that feel alive, shifting unpredictably beneath your ears. You won’t hum this tune later, but you’ll remember how it made you feel: slightly disoriented yet oddly mesmerized. Like watching twilight fall over an industrial park, there’s beauty hidden within the chaos.
Then there’s “How Much Should I Tip The Gecko Watcher?”—a track so delightfully absurd it demands multiple listens. Is it satire? Performance art? Or just plain weird for weirdness’ sake? Whatever it is, it works. The song builds around glitchy electronic beats interspersed with random bursts of noise that sound like malfunctioning machinery having a nervous breakdown. Yet somehow, amid all the madness, a rhythm emerges—a hypnotic groove that pulls you in despite yourself. By the time the track ends, you're left wondering whether tipping gecko watchers is now a thing and why you didn’t think of it first.
What makes Mission Approximated special isn’t just its technical prowess (though there’s plenty of that). It’s the way it challenges listeners to let go of expectations. This isn’t background music; it’s foreground music—loud, bold, and unapologetically strange. Tracks like these remind us that music doesn’t need to conform to be compelling. Sometimes, it can simply exist in its own gloriously messy universe.
In reflecting on this album, I couldn’t help but think about how rare it is to encounter work so defiantly original. In a world saturated with algorithm-friendly playlists and cookie-cutter hits, Mission Approximated feels like stumbling across a secret society meeting in a dimly lit basement. And honestly? That’s kinda refreshing. Just don’t ask me how much to tip the geckos—I’m still figuring that out myself.
