A Generic Push into the Realm of Pop
Chris Kage is an emerging pop artist, and his first entry into the world of music, Cycles, by no means is a bad start. It’s emotionally charged, sure to resonate with listeners of any age, and contains differences in themes between each and every track. One of its main shortcomings has to do with what’s going on with the instrumentations. At times, Kage, who produced the whole of the album, seems to fiddle with sounds recycled from the abyss open to all artists. That definitely can give the piece a united feel, but if there’s one thing fans of any kind of music aren’t necessarily searching for it’s unity. Instead, it’s always quality over anything else, especially experimentation, and the dilemmas that come out of that truth are what Kage struggles with the most on Cycles.
Starting with “_Birth_,” a song too caught up attempting to be a promising starter to this work, no lyrics are initially able to be heard. The get-go’s arguably the best time to set the tone for something like an expression of art such as this, but it would appear that Kage might not totally be on board with that idea. Intending to create something avant-garde certainly is a meaningful approach to anything, but it’s ultimately lackluster when Kage does it here, if that’s what he’s trying to do. The overall sound of “_Birth_” is repetitive. The track sounds broken, like something trying to fire itself up, or like someone trying to tune a radio to the special setting of their choosing. That effect is neither really useful nor plenty pleasurable.
“_The Mentor_” and “_Rebirth_” meet weird placements. It’s nothing but a lo-fi beat on the former, and the latter comes as this odd interlude of sorts, differing greatly from the relaxing harmonies and a jivey electric guitar on “_The Approach_.” On and on in the background, too, moans some lady, and that feature gets to be more than just a tad redundant.
Some philosopher of low status pontificates quietly as the sound rolls on “_The Mentor_.” There are strange whisperings as well, the voices of those who utter them belonging, it seems, to giggly drama-seeking gossips. One asks, “Are we dreaming?” and what plays over everything are these short cuts of the dialogue included in miscellaneous movie scenes, causing all this enigmatic energy to come forth. Still, both tracks just come up short trying to resemble anything remotely similar to masterpieces.
“_Rebirth_” is just like Cycles’s opener. On it is this motivational promo, or, to some, what could come off as a wannabe TED talk. Only a few lyrical lines out of the song truly stick around long, such as “Your need for acceptance can make you feel invisible in this world” and “We are the light that shines through.” “Love and War” is more sentimental than any of the other tracks. A likable soft guitar makes it perfect for slow dancing, yet at the same time it feels dry, lacking much of any trace of signature substance. “Up From the Shadows” stands out as a more dramatic addition, too, and has this sonar-like sound making it feel dreamy and oneiric. Though Kage makes a pretty commendable attempt to attribute this lasting feeling to it, it just bears too much similarity to something that could play in a Hallmark movie. That might be due to the recurring vocals of Joe Jury, however, which is telling.
While what Kage is trying to do is discernible, as mentioned before, he doesn’t deliver—but that’s not to say that he doesn’t have the potential to. He leaves his listeners encouraging messages on certain songs, like the one in “Leave the Light On,” “Leave the light on for a minute.” Some might find comfort in the seemingly Christian message in “We Stand Free,” but including anything related to religion is a risky move. In that way, it’s just okay to honor Kage’s efforts through Cycles. Just as there’s a lot of room for improvement, there’s just as much room for things to remark upon, and that’s a truth that should be celebrated.