Zenith by Loops Haunt: A Glitchy, Dreamlike Journey That Sticks
If you’ve ever wondered what it’d feel like to drift through a digital rainstorm while your brain hums along to some abstract code language, Zenith by Loops Haunt might just be the album for you. Released back in 2012 under UK label Black Acre, this record is a masterclass in blending IDM (that’s Intelligent Dance Music for the uninitiated) with an almost meditative kind of weirdness. It’s not perfect—it’s messy, glitchy, and sometimes feels like it doesn’t even want you to "get" it—but that’s exactly why it works.
The guy behind the curtain here is S. Gordon, who wrote, produced, and basically birthed this thing into existence. The artwork? That’s all Grampian Mountains and P. Gault doing their thing, giving us visuals as cryptic as the music itself. And speaking of music, there are tracks on this album that’ll stick to your ribs long after they’ve ended.
Take “Heal,” for example. This one sneaks up on you. At first, it’s all soft bloops and bleeps, like someone dropped a bunch of marbles onto a circuit board. But then—bam—it unfolds into something warm and almost tender. It’s hard to explain without sounding like I’ve lost my mind, but it’s like the song reaches out and gives your soul a little pat on the back. You don’t expect it from an electronic track, but hey, that’s Loops Haunt for ya.
Then there’s “Fathom.” Oh man, this one hits different. It starts off jittery, like it can’t decide whether it wants to dance or have an existential crisis. Somewhere around the halfway mark, though, everything clicks. The beat locks in, layers pile up, and suddenly you’re floating. Not in a cheesy, spa-music way, either. More like… imagine being suspended in deep water, weightless, watching sunlight break through the surface above you. Weirdly peaceful, right? Yeah, that’s “Fathom.”
What makes Zenith stand out isn’t just its sound—it’s how unpredictable it feels. Tracks like “Dltfaypily” pop up twice (with slightly different spellings because why not?), and honestly, it kinda feels like finding an Easter egg in a video game. Like Loops Haunt left these breadcrumbs intentionally, daring you to notice. Or maybe they didn’t, and I’m reading too much into it. Either way, it keeps things interesting.
By the time you hit “Galleon,” the closing track, you realize this whole journey has been less about structure and more about vibes. There’s no grand finale, no big crescendo—just a slow fade-out, leaving you sitting there thinking, “Wait, is it over?” Kinda anti-climactic, but also kinda beautiful.
Here’s the kicker: listening to Zenith feels like eavesdropping on someone else’s dream. It’s fragmented, occasionally confusing, but undeniably human. For an album so rooted in electronic abstraction, it manages to feel alive in ways you wouldn’t expect. And yeah, it came out over a decade ago, but good art doesn’t really age, does it?
So if you’re looking for background noise for your next coffee shop hangout, this ain’t it. But if you wanna zone out and let your thoughts wander down some glitchy, neon-lit alleyways, give Zenith a spin. Just don’t blame me if you start hearing bleeps in your sleep.
