The Ligurian/Italia, chiptune artist, Internet Breakfast, dwells in the experimental hub known as Musica Orizzontale (https://musicaorizzontale.bandcamp.com/), and pulls inspiration from old, gaming units.
For the album, Nothing But the Street Lights (to illuminate the screen), listeners are treated to chipped, arcade tunes, which create an artistic fixture, springing at dawn and bleeding far beyond.
"Input" is the artist's start, an advent that squeezes the head no sooner than one creaks from bed.
In truth, the track is but a preliminary phase for an "Internet Breakfast," where one devours faux reality, the composer soldering symbolic circuits to draw one into the worldwide web.
But the scene dims in disarray, and so, to instill a surrogate sun, one basks in a "Coffee Run." Beneath the bleak street lights, one sways like a wayward feather, the luring java promising that (no matter the outcome) "We All Fall Together."
It's through this sardonic break that the composer tests the listener's faith, with encryptions vexing and vast. The confusion rises and dips, or is it just some preordained slip? Sharpened pixels cut ever deeper into one's audible eyes, leaping from strand to strand in full, panicked stride.
Aw, no need to fret, for the "Good Boy" salutations sugarcoat the creator's uncrackable code, much like an ornate music box stripped of its gears, its metal fingers flecked in furtive tears.
As evening descends, one's "Output" has been spent, the assailing lights promising a brand new day, though only if one hits REPLAY.
Internet Breakfast's opus is an entrancing experiment, a reimagined James Joyce for its (in)finite odyssey, in which rationalized reveries accentuate each prophesized gesture, but even more, every eternal routine.
Track the lights at
https://musicaorizzontale.bandcamp.com/album/mo20-nothing-but-the-street-lights
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