Most of Tim Woulfe’s many releases have some sort of loose concept attached to them. Earlier this year, he recorded some songs to tape as a way to chronicle a West Coast tour; last year, he put out an album meant to accompany the sleep cycle. His latest is Silence, and it was written and recorded over the last month “as an exercise to make an album about my day to day life.” It’s an album that relishes in the monotony of everyday existence, but finds beauty and curiosity within those tiny confines.
“Silence Breaks” serves as a good encapsulation of the album’s general mood — plodding and damp, Woulfe reflects on the conundrum of silence and how he can interact with the world while leaving the smallest footprint possible. “Silence breaks the day,” it opens, static going off like fireworks in the background. “But when you’re describing it, you’ve already ruined it/ And you can only live in it if you don’t acknowledge it.” Woulfe occupies just as much space as anyone else — “I hate this instinct/ I want to feel still,” he notes — but he tries to find solace in a minimal existence, and he feels meek and at ease. Listen to it below.