August 2024 Favorite Album

At the start of this year, I made a commitment—a sort of sonic adventure, if you will. I wanted to explore music beyond the surface-level stuff that gets algorithmically spoon-fed or blasted on the car radio during late-night drives. Up until now, my answer to “What kind of music do you listen to?” had always been some variation of “Uh, everything?”—which is to say, I had no idea. That response always felt like a cop-out, a half-hearted shrug at something that should’ve felt personal.

So, I set out to change that. This year, I’ve intentionally listened to over 300 albums—some classics, some obscure oddities, all of them brand new to me. Each month, I pick a standout, and for August, I landed on a gem that’s not just an album but an experience:

D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L by Panchiko

Here’s the thing: this album isn’t just music—it’s a time capsule that someone accidentally buried in the backyard, only to be unearthed years later by curious passersby. The whole story of Panchiko’s near-oblivion and subsequent rediscovery is enough to draw you in (and yes, you should read about it here). But even if you knew nothing about its backstory, the music speaks for itself.

At first, the lo-fi production might make you think your headphones are busted. But the more you listen, the more it clicks: the fuzzy edges, the imperfect layers—it all feels intentional, like a grainy photograph that captures emotion more than detail. Tracks like “Laputa” and the title track are hazy yet haunting, full of nostalgia that doesn’t try to rewrite the past as some golden era. Instead, it’s more like a foggy memory—bittersweet, layered, and a little mysterious.

What hooks me most, though, is the album’s balance. It’s approachable but intricate, inviting you in with its dreamy melodies but rewarding closer listening with layers of detail. One moment, you’re bobbing along to a hazy tune; the next, you’re unpacking the quiet melancholy woven through the lyrics. It’s the kind of album that keeps you coming back, not because it’s catchy, but because it always has something new to say—or maybe because you’re finally ready to hear it.

And then there’s the story behind it. This album could’ve easily disappeared, a dusty relic of a forgotten time. Instead, it resurfaced, and that backstory adds a certain weight to the experience. Listening to D>E>A>T>H>M>E>T>A>L feels less like consuming a product and more like participating in its journey—a rare connection in an age where music is often reduced to background noise or quick dopamine hits.