Cory Lomberg’s reverb pedal goes to 12.
Melody Prochet’s presence has been scarce, which—if internet oversharing has taught us anything—makes it all the more desirable. The mind behind Melody’s Echo Chamber appeared on the U.S. tour circuit only twice in the last year: once for a series of shows around FYF and again between Coachella performances. If you failed to catch one of those shows (or walk along York Blvd. last summer, where a billboard cast her face over the nearest taco truck), you may have missed her entirely. In that case, you’re doomed to Prochet’s seldom-used social media accounts in the hope that an occasional Instagram post or a link shared on Facebook will lend a glimpse of the band’s next record, following their 2012 debut.
Yet a post from Prochet on Sunday did just that (or at least came close, before disappearing minutes later). The band didn’t necessarily share a new track, but an unreleased demo titled “Father’s Day” from the time of their first record. Like their live performances, the demo is a reminder of the many layers that stack around and inside a Melody’s Echo Chamber song.
Prochet considers sound in the context of space: where the tempo slows and starts, how much reverb is too much reverb, and how much reverb is just the right amount of disorienting. Her take is carefully constructed; that process yields results so successful, it justifies a slow burn toward the next record.
Chronologically, the newest release from Melody’s Echo Chamber dates back to “Shirim,” a track shared two years after the album came out. It’s dreamy in the same way their debut was, though a darker shade in the dreamscape. Picture the kind of sleep you long to stay in not because it’s pleasant, but because you genuinely want to see what happens next.
“Shirim” is sad, melodic, danceable, and vastly different from the first album in the tale it tells. Prochet stands mid-reflection, offering an explanation for any weariness to come, lamenting, “It seems like I’m getting old.” She makes a case for distinguishing Then from Now. Back on “I Follow You,” the opening track from Melody’s Echo Chamber, she optimistically sang of a love that felt distinct, “new,” and far less flawed than the rest. A love that will be better this time, despite signs suggesting otherwise.
Every song Prochet pens is astral in some capacity, shifting tone and texture at least once before it ends. “Father’s Day” is no exception. “I can’t forsake you,” she muses on the demo, and it’s every bit believable. She aims to disrupt your dreams and make them more vivid, maybe longer, so you don’t remember the beginning or the end upon waking up. You sense that you learned something, but can’t remember what.
