The rumble-like folktales of Ilustrada brandishes a nude, aching sound that makes “Keychain” so voluminous. Ilustrada gives a punch-drunk performance that calls to mind David Gray (Foundling). Those raging instrumentals are sublime, the whole outfit has a motif of the unparalleled.
It’s striking how we move so brilliantly through the spaces of “Keychain” it’s perplexities are a silent shot, they are a layer of film over the eyes. Sometimes we pronounce the unspeakable in mere gesture and we place ourselves in a storytelling that fits like a cautionary song that is Ilustrada’s “Keychain,” sometimes we throw up our fists to the Dog Star trying to reclaim our inebriated fate.
The erratic rambling which seems more measured and composed than not, is a beat-poet going at the flame of discontent wallowing in the limelight. There could be unknown pleasures to be satiated and perhaps Ilustrada has had a few, there’s commiserating for the waning moon and tired, ailing hands: how else would a man possibly write a song so lonesome and dedicated.
There’s a fortitude in the vocals, a breadth that surpasses the solemn sadness- It’s as though the gloaming were to swallow the earth. The clashing of chords and Ilustrada’s voice pierces the tendrils, it’s almost a haphazard affair- Reminiscent of Elliott Smith’s earlier more abrasive work. Stemming from the despondent lyrics we are left staring at the tidal wave, “I’m nothing but a soldier” is Ilustrada’s strike back.
The floodlights are pearly pictures of past affairs in the periphery while we plug away into uncharted waters. With a dead-pan delivery of eerie, deafening music we daydream through Ilustrada’s “Keychain” in a blur of so many lifetimes. Wearing the discord around his neck there’s a fascination we see with dark humor perhaps or the more morbid sort of sadness. We relinquish our sovereignty and let Ilustrada man the wheel, “Keychain” is one ride you won’t likely forget.
Written by Hari Palacio
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