Four songs. Four songs is all it took for prdr to make it seem like they just took their audience to the moon and back. The way these tracks sound so jam-packed might look overwhelming, but it really just means you are going to get the most out of your time by listening to this EP. “the malice of chance and time” offers a time to get lost in all the different tunes present in every song, as well as to think about what it could all mean.
Starting off with “waiting in the light (the dreamer)”, listeners would of course begin to be curious as to why all the tracks have second labels in them, and for this one it’s ‘the dreamer’. The sound is full, creating an image of a limbo-esque void just by how it all sounds. The timing, the rhythm, the drums have their own little avenue to shine. The vocals are powerful, which says a lot considering it’s only the opening track. It only helps in getting new listeners to stay for more.
The first half minute of “can we go back (the optimist)” sounds insightful despite not having any lyrics yet. When the elements that make this a progressive rock song at best arrive, it’s sure to emphasize the initial tune and rhythm. By the time the vocals arrive, everything surrounding it tones down a bit, a great touch in terms of sound dynamics.
“Is it too late to forget what is broken?” and “Is it too late to replace what was broken?” are questions of the same nature that contradicts the label of the second track, ‘the optimist’. But, perhaps it’s referring to going back on those happy and whimsical days. The harmonies in the bridge are executed to perfection, and just when the guitar makes itself known again, the song’s back to full blast.
More on the heavy side with the instrumentals slightly overpowering the vocals at first, “spaces in between (the observer)” creates a mystified aura, or somewhat of an entity that’s barely there. It’s great as it fits the title, because the unwavering buzz and the absence of silence in the background of the track resembles observers lurking about. The sound seamlessly goes back to the usual setting in the song’s chorus, making sure that the song is anything but stagnant. The rise and fall of the volume offers depth to the sound profile as a whole.
For some reason, the title “impermanence (the father)” would make anyone with a broken sense of humor exhale out of their nose. But, it’s witty and fitting at the same time. It’s mellow yet still filled with melodic noise, much like the previous track. Amidst the tame vocals, there’s multiple, simultaneous components giving off a futuristic vibe, that is until the raw instruments come into play. From the initial pick up of what it’s all about, it first narrates good times and memories, into a realization of “nothing remains”, and a series of rage-like deliveries and fill-ins.
Everything sounds playful yet the arrangements are evidently well-thought. The sound is one thing and the concept is another, as the latter would mean a consistent replay of the entire EP would be necessary to have an understanding of it. You of course get a partial understanding of everything on the first listen, but there’s a question in the back of your mind asking, “do I really?”
It’s an intricate little EP with a lot of nooks and crannies to be explored and discovered, or if you just really like music that bursts with color and has meaningful words worth diving into, I could not think of a better record to try out but this one.
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About the Author
Kate Clarice Lee is a psychology major in Ateneo de Naga University with a knack for music and writing. She takes interest in playing guitar, poetry, creative writing, and lyrics that—subjectively—hit close to home. Kate mostly enjoys indie, alternative, pop & punk rock music.
