Experience a Transformation In Mt Fog’s ultraviolet heart machine
With summer coming to an end, I’ve been thinking a lot about the changing of seasons. I always find myself feeling down about it, wishing it would last just a few more weeks. On the other hand though, I’ve always liked the idea of transition and that everything continues to change.
It seems that Carolyn B. of Mt Fog has been thinking a lot about the process of change as well. The now trio is back with a new release, ultraviolet heart machine, which they have noted explores how love transforms us, geologic change and mycelial connection. It very much rings true. The album, releasing on Ghost Mountain Records, is an incredible world of shimmering soundscapes that shift and flow so silvery and fluid that you feel no resistance. In the same way you can’t resist change, you just let it wash over you. Carolyn shines with expressive vocals, reminiscent of greats like Kate Bush and Björk, but still in a class of her own. She’s now accompanied by bassist Casey Rosebridge and drummer Andy Sells, who bring their own impressive energies: Rosebridge with infectious bass work and Sells with tight, immovable drumming.
The album opens with “Drifting,” which wafts in brightly like a careful beacon as Sells kicks in with a steady beat and Rosebridge enters with a punchy baseline. The song signals the first indicators of change as Carolyn vocalizes, “I’m drifting again.” Sharing musings around exploring these feelings she notes, “I’m looking for a way to feel more grounded.”
The energy remains high with upbeat yet still introspective tracks like “Slowly Morphing” and “It’s Mycelial,” both of which arc with bouncy, bright synths. Carolyn’s synth work is excellent and sets the stage in a way that every song feels like its own enchanting world. “Losing Little Pieces” is no exception. It opens with noticeably sharp notes that meet Sells’ decisive drumming. There’s a palpable darkness as the song touches on the idea of losing parts of yourself by letting someone walk over you. Carolyn sings “I am a soft stone/and you’ve been walking over me/I lose little pieces/and I didn’t say anything.”
There are slower, contemplative moments on the record,like the tranquil “Soft Center” and then “Interlude I (Morphing)” which feels like a white, echo-y room subtly dressed with soft synth notes. There’s a raw admission of transformation as Carolyn calls out “And I am slowly morphing/I don’t know when I will feel myself again.”
Carolyn, Rosebrigde and Sells work in an exceptional, locked-in harmony. The soundscapes are held down by meticulous drum and bass work that serve as a steady ground to the energetic synths. Not to mention the production done by Carolyn with additional work from Rosebridge and Sells is prime. Everyone’s parts weave in a beautifully cohesive way.
ultraviolet heart machine is a vulnerable, transformative experience. There’s so much of this album that makes you want to move that you almost forget you’re being taken through such a reflective space. As you make your way through the glittering worlds of the record, you feel the shifts and interconnectedness. As much as you hope things will last, everything continues to evolve in an incredible way.