Matare - Brevity

​Matare

Brevity
self-released; 2025

By Dan Weston

Atlanta-based artist Matare treats Brevity as a solitary exercise in control, a self-written, self-produced, and self-performed EP that resists the diffuse polish of committee-built releases. Every element appears placed with care, from the gauzy guitar tones to the low end that moves with quiet intention. The songs glow with a sense of recollection that doesn't quite slip into pure revivalism, as if Matare is chasing the emotional afterimage of past eras instead of recreating them outright. Recorded in his home studio, the EP carries the intimacy of a private workspace, where experimentation feels less like risk and more like routine, and that closeness translates into a sound that feels both deliberate and personal.

To my ears, the record settles into a meeting point between post-punk restraint and shoegaze atmosphere. The grooves occasionally echo Joy Division’s stark momentum, while long hall reverb trails cling to nearly every surface, giving the songs a blurred perimeter. That haze becomes part of the architecture, softening edges while preserving the skeletal pulse underneath. Matare seems comfortable letting repetition do the emotional heavy lifting, allowing subtle shifts in tone and texture to register as meaningful gestures rather than dramatic turns.

The opener “Brevity” lays out the template with a steady 4/4 pulse, bass lines that hold to the root, and reverb-laden guitars that supply the air around the structure. If you have a soft spot for The Jesus and Mary Chain or early shoegaze, it lands with a familiar warmth that feels more restorative than nostalgic. “When Alone” keeps its feet closer to the ground but still moves through the same vaporous space. The rhythm section avoids flash in favor of feel, letting mood carry the weight while the guitars stretch outward like contrails.

“Do You Think They’ll Talk About Us?” shifts toward ballad territory, and without the cavernous reverb it could pass for an intimate piano piece. The production keeps it suspended, as though the song is remembering itself in real time. “When The Sun Falls” ended up being my personal favorite. There is a kinetic lift in its rhythm and a vocal melody that lingers long after the track fades, providing one of the EP’s most immediate moments of connection.

Brevity works as a throwback for listeners who hold these sounds close, embracing a set of aesthetics forged decades ago while presenting them with care and clarity. It does not attempt to reinvent the form. Instead, it refines a familiar language and speaks it with sincerity, inviting listeners to settle into its atmosphere and stay there for a while.

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