A1 by Namjorh

We want to see the world as predictable and safe, and even if we know that our own lives will never meet that ideal, something in our hearts clings desperately to the idea that somewhere, for someone, these needs have been met. Pieces of art like the album A1 by Namjorh challenge this expectation of safety in the most subconscious, unsettling way, opening our minds to a mystery with only the darkest possible resolutions. From fuzzy blankets of noise emerge ghastly, hair-raising vocals that resemble either found footage or ASMR, assuring us that these words were never meant for our ears. On the surface, these vocals convey positive messages of affirmation and reassurance, but intercepting these messages as an unintended audience forces us to question the origin and destination. How could such a message get lodged in this wall of experimental electronic noise? Who left something this valuable available to the public on the internet? Did the original intended audience ever receive this tender message? Subconsciously, we know these questions have answers that are contradictory or don’t have any answers at all. No matter the explanation, we know we’ve stumbled upon tragedy.