Despite his determination to make sure none of his song or titles can be realistically crammed into an Internet search bar, Eamon Doyle has created something interesting. The four songs on Silhouettes Clawing Frantically At An Impenetrable Curtain (SCFAAIC; I refuse to use the whole title every time, plus this sounds like the sound I made while listening to it) each push the right buttons. And, by the sound of things, this is just the beginning.
There’s some influence from the Soundcloud generation, mostly in the scattershot approach to melody, as well as the wave of djent. “The Sisyphean Gait,” in particular, sounds like Pantera’s Walk was repurposed by a bunch of v-neck wearing seven-string djentists. The electronics are tasteful without being overpowering. It shows that, deep down, Eamon is still a venerated supporter of the almighty riff. Nothing can truly replace that.
Things remain instrumental throughout. It’s hard to imagine what kind of lyrics would go with a song called “Beneath One Layer of Secrets Lurks Another and Another,” so maybe it’s for the best. But I couldn’t help thinking how much things would be improved with a little vocal wordplay. The ideas are clearly there, but with no lyrics, they feel almost wasted. It never becomes a dealbreaker, though, as the dancy riffs are enough to keep most heads bobbing throughout.
“A Prowler in the Garden of Irony” is the perfect encapsulation of everything Eamon Doyle gets right and wrong. The melody is sharp and snazzy, bringing to mind the bedroom projects that invaded Soundcloud at the beginning of the decade. But it also can’t help feeling unfinished, as if Doyle simply decided one day that the song was done without writing a real ending. If his intention was to leave us wanting more, mission accomplished. This writer can’t wait to hear what else Eamon Doyle comes up with, so long as it is a bit more finalized then this EP. In any case, good luck finding it. Those song titles really narrow down the searches….
Written by Max Morin
*edited by Danielle Kenedy