I first met Mattesque at Bíó Paradís, a movie theater in Reykjavik, Iceland, which admittedly is an odd place for an American and a Canadian to connect. Odder still is that we (and our wives) had a weird relationship-not-a-relationship that stretched back a number of years thanks to Iceland Airwaves and the four of us finding ourselves on the same flights from Seattle to Reykjavik and back multiple times. It was Mrs. Mattesque who finally broke the ice, and the four of us have been Airwaves friends ever since.
Earlier this year Mattesque put out an album called Never Safe, Forever Gone, four tracks spanning almost 40 minutes of delicious dark ambience. He followed that up with a limited edition run of 25 cassettes featuring an abridged rendition of the full album, and the cassette is the only way to hear this version.
The feeling I get from this version of Never Safe, Forever Gone, is that of being outside. It’s late in the evening and we’re near the water, the cold air thick with dampness, a wet fog falling just short of turning into rain. There’s a lighthouse, its beam silently knifing through the gloom as far as it can reach, though who it’s warning is anyone’s guess, as on a night like this no one should be out. The quiet lapping of waves against the pier is the only reassuring sound penetrating the darkness. Do you hear rowing oars off in the distance, or is that just the waves? Is something in fact out there? Probably not… but… you can’t be certain. As you turn to walk back along the pier toward the shore you find yourself looking over your shoulder a few times just in case…
Go out to Mattesque’s Bandcamp page HERE and give Never Safe, Forever Gone a listen, and maybe show him some love and buy a digital copy… or a cassette while you can.