There’s something about the way a raindrop refracts a streetlight – random, yet orchestrated – that feels akin to sssiv’s debut album, “sssiv 1”. It’s like water moving where it wants, hitting familiar surfaces but with fresh, pulsating energy. At its core, this album isn’t interested in drawing clean lines between improvisation and composition, but rather in the cracks where complexity and simplicity collide—and eventually, dance.
Sara, Stephen, and Sasha seem, at points, less like musicians and more like cartographers, mapping terrains we never knew were there. But don’t mistake that for cold precision. This album has a human warmth that’s comfortable with its edges, like a handwritten letter with some misspellings that make it all the more meaningful. You feel it, especially during the improvisations—those spaces where the trio lets unspoken conversation guide the melody. The drums know where they’re headed but take twists with playful shyness; the guitars don’t ask questions with their lines, and the bass feels like it’s sharing secrets at 2 AM.
But while it sounds formless on the surface, lies a heavier intention. The point? Consider what happens when we stop editing ourselves for the sake of perfection. “sssiv 1” is not burdened by wanting to impress, it just is—an ongoing dialogue between familiarity and expansion. It’s almost as if the music floats—but then you catch yourself thinking that maybe you’re the one suspended.
If anything, sssiv reminds us that joy doesn’t require polish. Sometimes it’s just about setting out with your friends, letting your instruments (and minds) wander.
Did Sara’s hi-hat save western civilization? Unclear. But this album, for certain, feels like a well-earned breath.
