Fragments by Evert Jan Smink: A Sonic Puzzle Worth Solving
Alright, so here’s the deal with Fragments by Evert Jan Smink. Released in 2012 under Sirona-Records (yep, outta France), this album dives deep into the world of experimental electronic music. And I mean deep. It’s not your usual chill-out playlist or something you’d throw on at a party unless your friends are really into drones and weird noises. The genres here are all over the place—drone, ambient, minimal, noise, experimental—but somehow it works. Like, it’s messy but intentional, if that makes sense.
The tracklist is kinda long, clocking in at 15 songs, which felt overwhelming at first glance. But honestly? Once you get into it, there’s some real magic hiding in there. Let me break down two tracks that stuck with me because, let’s be real, no one remembers every single song on an album like this.
First up: “Antresath.” Right off the bat, this one grabs you—or maybe it just kinda sneaks up on ya. It starts super quiet, almost like background hums from another dimension. Then BAM! This low drone kicks in, and suddenly you’re not sure if you should feel relaxed or slightly anxious. That tension is what makes it memorable for me. It’s like listening to the inside of a machine while also floating through space. Weird combo, right? But it’s cool. You don’t hear stuff like this every day.
Then there’s “Fragment,” which feels like the heart of the whole record. Maybe it’s the name, or maybe it’s how layered everything sounds. There’s this crackling texture running throughout, like static from an old TV mixed with soft pads that sound almost… hopeful? I dunno, man, it’s hard to explain. But when those moments hit, it feels like the album is breathing. Like it’s alive. Wild, huh?
One thing I gotta say about Fragments is that it doesn’t try too hard to please everyone. If you’re looking for catchy hooks or lyrics to sing along to, nah, this ain’t it. Instead, it’s more like a mood board made out of sound. Each track feels like its own little experiment, but together they create this bigger picture. Kinda poetic, if you think about it.
Oh, and here’s a random thought: Listening to this album feels like staring at clouds—you see shapes and patterns, but only if you stop trying too hard. Sometimes it’s just noise, and sometimes it’s beautiful. Who knew electronic music could feel so human?
So yeah, give Fragments a shot if you’re into stuff that challenges you. Just don’t expect instant gratification. This one takes time, patience, and maybe even a good pair of headphones. Or don’t. Your call. Either way, props to Evert Jan Smink for making something that still feels fresh nearly a decade later.
