Gazing Through The Midnight Mist: Pheek’s Sonic Acid Trip You Didn’t Know You Needed
Let’s get one thing straight—Pheek’s Gazing Through The Midnight Mist isn’t your run-of-the-mill electronic album. Released in 2013 under Canada’s Climat label, this beast of a record dives headfirst into experimental and minimal techno territory, leaving you disoriented but hooked. It’s like wandering through foggy woods at 3 AM with no flashlight—confusing as hell, but kinda thrilling.
Jean-Patrice Remillard (yeah, the guy who wrote and produced this madness) doesn’t mess around. He crafts sounds that feel alien yet oddly familiar, like déjà vu on acid. And let’s not forget Max Binski’s artwork—it’s as cryptic and moody as the music itself. This ain’t background noise for your dinner party; it’s an experience. A weird, unsettling, can’t-stop-listening experience.
Now, onto the tracks. "Connected To What Could Be Multi-Dimensional" slaps hard—not in a mainstream way, though. It builds slowly, teasing you with glitchy beats and eerie synths until BAM! You’re lost in some kind of digital labyrinth. By the time the bassline kicks in fully, you’ve forgotten where you are—or even who you are. That track sticks with me because it feels like being inside a machine dreaming about humanity. Creepy? Sure. Genius? Absolutely.
Then there’s “Plain Sexy.” Don’t let the name fool ya—it’s anything but straightforward. This cut is hypnotic, all stripped-down rhythms and subtle shifts that crawl under your skin. It’s sexy, sure, but more in a “I’m watching you from across the room” kinda way than something smooth or romantic. Minimal techno doesn’t usually grab me, but damn if this track didn’t burrow its way into my brain.
The rest of the album keeps up the vibe—tracks like “Shaman” and “Lava” throw curveballs left and right, while “Intro” sets the tone perfectly. Even when things get repetitive (and they do), it never feels lazy. Every beat, every sound has purpose—even if that purpose is to confuse the hell out of you.
Here’s the kicker: listening to Gazing Through The Midnight Mist feels like eavesdropping on someone else’s fever dream. It’s uncomfortable, unpredictable, and sometimes downright bizarre—but also impossible to ignore. If you’re looking for easy listening, go elsewhere. But if you want something raw, challenging, and unapologetically strange, this might just be your new favorite album.
And hey, here’s a thought—what if Jean-Patrice Remillard isn’t human? What if he’s some sort of interdimensional DJ sent here to mess with our heads? Food for thought.
