Sappy Tape by JOYFULTALK: A Lo-fi Headtrip You Didn’t Know You Needed
Let’s get one thing straight—Sappy Tape isn’t your typical album. Released in 2014 by JOYFULTALK (a Canadian trio consisting of Dice Parks, Jay Crocker, and William Vandermeulen), this experimental mashup of pop, electronic, and rock vibes feels like someone threw a bunch of genres into a blender and hit “puree.” And honestly? It works. Sort of.
First off, the whole thing is super low-key. No flashy label backing it—it’s self-released under Not On Label, which kinda screams “we’re doing this for the art, not the fame.” Respect. The album has only two tracks: Side A and Side B. Yeah, that’s it. No clever song titles here, just two sprawling chunks of sound that feel more like a journey than a playlist.
Now, let’s talk about why Side A sticks with me. Imagine if Kraftwerk got into a heated argument with Animal Collective over who could make the weirdest beat. That’s Side A. It starts off all chill, lulling you into a false sense of security with some warm synths and mellow beats. But then—bam!—it veers off into this chaotic soundscape that’s part dance party, part existential crisis. I remember listening to it while cooking dinner once, and suddenly I was stirring spaghetti like I was conducting an orchestra. Weird? Totally. Memorable? Absolutely.
Then there’s Side B, which feels like the moody cousin of Side A. If Side A is the life of the party, Side B is the guy sulking in the corner, nursing a drink, and muttering cryptic things about the universe. It’s slower, darker, and packed with these glitchy textures that remind me of when my old laptop used to freeze during important Zoom calls. Annoying? Sure. But also oddly beautiful in its messiness.
What makes Sappy Tape stand out is how unapologetically itself it is. There’s no attempt to fit neatly into any genre box. Instead, JOYFULTALK throws everything at the wall to see what sticks. Sometimes it’s brilliant; other times, it’s just… well, sappy. But hey, that’s the charm of it.
Here’s the kicker: listening to this album feels like finding a mixtape in a thrift store and wondering who made it—and why they decided to name it after sticky maple syrup. Is it perfect? Nope. Does it make sense? Not really. But damn if it doesn’t leave an impression.
Final thought: If Sappy Tape were a person, it’d be that quirky friend who always shows up late to parties wearing mismatched socks but somehow steals the show anyway. Love it or hate it, you won’t forget it.
