Album Review: Aral by D'incise
Alright, let’s talk about Aral. Released in 2013 by the Belgian wizard D’incise, this album feels like stumbling into a half-forgotten dream. It’s electronic but not in that “hey-let’s-dance” way—it’s more like someone took a magnifying glass to the hum of distant power lines and whispered, “What if this was art?” The genre? Experimental, minimal, with a splash of field recording. If you’re into sounds that feel accidental yet deliberate, this one might just stick to your brain like gum on a summer sidewalk.
The track "Aral" (yeah, same as the album title) is where it all starts, and honestly, it’s unforgettable. Imagine standing alone in an abandoned factory at night—just you, some flickering fluorescent lights, and the faint echo of machinery long gone. That’s what this track does to you. It’s sparse, almost uncomfortably so, but every little bleep or buzz feels intentional, like each sound has been handpicked from the universe’s junk drawer. There’s no rush here; it unfolds slowly, giving you time to wonder if you’re hearing water dripping or static crackling. Either way, it pulls you in deep.
Then there’s another gem—I won’t name it because part of the fun is discovering these moments yourself—but trust me, it’s got this weird heartbeat vibe going on. Like, you’re not sure if it’s alive or if it’s just pretending. It’s subtle enough to fade into the background, but once you tune in, it grabs hold and doesn’t let go. You start noticing layers you missed before, like tiny glitches hiding under a blanket of silence. It’s haunting, in a good way, like finding an old photograph of someone you vaguely recognize.
D’incise isn’t trying to wow you with flashy beats or dramatic crescendos. Nope, he’s doing something quieter, weirder, and honestly, kinda brave. He makes space for imperfection, for the raw edges of sound most people would ignore. And maybe that’s why Aral sticks around after the music stops—you can’t quite shake off its strange beauty.
Released via Mystery Sea, which feels fitting since listening to this album feels like diving headfirst into uncharted waters. It’s murky, mysterious, and occasionally uncomfortable, but isn’t that what makes it worth exploring?
Here’s the kicker: I listened to this while waiting for my toaster to pop, and suddenly even burnt toast felt poetic. Weird, right? But hey, that’s Aral for you.
