sit around the fire - Loving What I Can

​sit around the fire

Loving What I Can
​self-released; 2024

By Dan Weston
​

Ram Dass' name is practically a rite of passage for anyone who's even brushed up against the fringes of a spiritual awakening. His influence extends far beyond self-help circles and meditation retreats, seeping into the DNA of modern music—Jon Hopkins, among others, has openly paid tribute to his legacy. That same reverence pulses through Loving What I Can, an album that embraces the weight of transcendence and transformation, channeling the expansive soundscapes of Sigur Rós, Mogwai, and Explosions in the Sky. But while the record echoes familiar post-rock and ambient touchstones, it also carves its own space.  

The album begins with "Siglish," a track that takes off in classic post-rock fashion—melancholic, pensive, and heavy with atmosphere. The opening moments are spare and intimate, with reverb-laden guitars establishing a meditative foundation. But as the song progresses, orchestral strings and swelling textures lift it into something far more expansive, a slow-motion ascension rather than a simple crescendo. There’s a sense of movement, of reaching upward, but the beauty here is in the restraint. The payoff isn't in an explosive climax but in the steady, deliberate evolution of sound.  

"Baku" pivots into a looser, more groove-driven space, embracing rhythmic complexity and layered electronics. The track builds in micro-movements, recalling the ghostly, glitch-laden textures of Kid A-era Radiohead. There’s an underlying tension between the smooth, hypnotic grooves and the dissonant flourishes, ensuring that it never fully dissolves into predictability. It resists the trappings of new age ambient music, instead opting for something more nuanced—melodically rich yet slightly off-kilter, like a dream that hovers just on the edge of lucidity.  

The album’s emotional core comes into focus with "Morning Gordon," a track that seamlessly integrates spoken-word samples of Ram Dass with towering synth swells reminiscent of M83 at their most cinematic. The contrast between the intimate voice recordings and the vast, open soundscape gives the song a weightiness that feels deeply personal yet universal. It was one of the strongest songs on the album.

From here, "Mudbath" acts as a moment of reprieve, leaning into the lush, slow-burning intensity of post-rock’s most meditative corners. It’s cerebral yet immersive, the kind of track that seeps into the subconscious rather than forcing itself to the forefront. "Rampa" which is another highlight explores murkier emotional terrain, shifting between shadow and light in a way that feels deeply intuitive. The melodies hover in a space of unresolved tension, creating a soundscape that feels molecular in its approach—as if it’s tunneling inward rather than stretching outward.  

By the time "Sweet Peg" closes the album, the artist returns to something more structurally grounded—melancholy and beauty interwoven, a quiet but fitting conclusion that feels reflective and pensive. The song embraces a more song-like structure, serving as a gentle landing after the album’s more exploratory moments.  

What makes Loving What I Can compelling isn’t just its references or influences but the way it sidesteps easy catharsis. Some of the most powerful moments come from its unpredictability, the way it wavers between introspection and grandeur, between precision and spontaneity. There are echoes of post-rock’s giants here, but this isn’t merely an exercise in atmosphere—it’s an album that breathes, expands, and lingers in the spaces between. For fans of the aforementioned artists this will be a familiar but palatable listening experience. Recommended. 

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