When Dirted Snow by Zoikhem: A Sonic Puzzle That Sticks With You
Let me just say this upfront—When Dirted Snow isn’t your typical album. Released back in 2005 under the French label Odiolorgnette, it’s like someone took folk, jazz, gagaku (yeah, that ancient Japanese court music), and avant-garde weirdness, threw them into a blender, and hit "puree." The result? Something messy, unsettling, but impossible to forget.
Zoikhem doesn’t do predictable. This record feels less like an album and more like wandering through a dream where instruments talk to each other in languages you don’t understand. It’s chaotic yet strangely beautiful. And honestly? I think that’s what makes it so damn good.
Take Part IV, for example. Oh man, this one hit me right in the gut. Eghbert Ornst’s alto saxophone squeals like it’s trying to escape its own skin, while Franck Smith’s turntables scratch and stutter underneath, creating this eerie tension. Then there’s Tlü Ejtko jumping between organ drones and vocal percussion—it’s like he’s whispering secrets directly into your ear. There’s no melody here in the traditional sense, but somehow it all works together. Listening to Part IV feels like standing on the edge of a cliff during a storm—you’re terrified, but you can’t look away.
Then there’s Part II, which is… well, completely different. If Part IV is chaos, Part II is meditation. Yeïzh O.’s berimbau hums softly, almost like a heartbeat, while layers of electronics swirl around you like smoke. It’s hypnotic, really. Halfway through, the track shifts unexpectedly—a recorder melody floats in, fragile and haunting, like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds. For some reason, this part stuck with me for days after hearing it. Maybe because it feels human amidst all the experimental noise? Or maybe I’m overthinking it. Either way, it lingers.
The credits alone tell you how much effort went into this thing. Everyone from Ito Lim-Tsahi writing those liner notes to Ijnveïq de Ernestine handling remixes clearly poured their soul into this project. You can hear it in every strange sound choice, every unexpected twist.
So yeah, When Dirted Snow might not be everyone’s cup of tea. But if you’re into music that challenges you, that makes you feel things you didn’t even know you could feel, then give this a shot. Just don’t expect easy answers or catchy hooks. What you’ll get instead is something raw, unfiltered, and deeply personal.
And hey, here’s the kicker—I still have no idea what “dirted snow” actually means. Is it literal? Metaphorical? Some kind of inside joke? Beats me. But maybe that’s the point. Sometimes art doesn’t need to make perfect sense to leave a mark.
