Album Review: Lété by Snail's House – A Kaleidoscope of Experimental Electronic Bliss
Released in 2018 under the label ChachetteNotes, Lété by Snail's House is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. It’s not just another electronic record; it’s an experimental playground where nostalgia meets futuristic soundscapes. The genre might technically be "electronic," but calling it that feels like slapping a generic sticker on something far more intricate. From dreamy synth layers to glitchy beats, this album dances between chaos and serenity without ever losing its charm.
One standout track is "Pluie." There’s something hauntingly beautiful about how it unfolds. The opening notes feel like raindrops tapping against your window—a soft lullaby for anyone who’s ever felt stuck inside their own thoughts. But then, halfway through, there’s this unexpected shift. It’s subtle yet jarring enough to make you sit up straight. This isn’t just background music; it demands attention. You can almost picture Snail's House tinkering away at their equipment, deciding, “Yeah, let’s throw in some weirdness here,” and somehow making it work perfectly.
Another gem worth mentioning is "[vivid green]." If “Pluie” is introspective rain, then “[vivid green]” is sunlight breaking through clouds after a storm. Its vibrant energy hits differently—it’s playful, almost childlike, but with a depth that keeps you hooked. Every listen reveals new textures, as if the song itself has secrets waiting to be uncovered. I caught myself humming along even though I couldn’t quite place why it felt so familiar. Maybe it taps into some universal memory we all share but struggle to articulate. Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Either way, it sticks.
What makes Lété memorable isn’t just its technical brilliance—it’s the emotional weight behind each track. Whether it’s the bittersweet farewell vibe of “See You Tomorrow (Outro)” or the whimsical escapism of “しゃぼん玉とあなたの夢,” every piece feels intentional yet spontaneous. It’s like flipping through pages of someone’s diary, except instead of words, you get melodies.
But here’s the kicker—this album doesn’t try too hard to impress. Sure, it flaunts its creativity, but there’s no pretentiousness lurking beneath the surface. Instead, it invites you to wander around its sonic world, leaving breadcrumbs of intrigue along the way. And honestly? That’s rare. Most albums these days either scream for attention or fade into obscurity. Lété, however, strikes a perfect balance—it whispers, but once you hear it, you can’t unhear it.
Final thought: Listening to Lété feels like stepping into a lucid dream. Just when you think you’ve figured it out, it throws curveballs that leave you questioning reality. Honestly, I didn’t expect to end my review thinking about bubblegum and sunflowers, but here we are.
