Swan Levitt | ALIVE

A lot of the music I listen to at the moment has an incredibly high amount of production pushed into it. This is not a bad thing, rather, it is a product of our times. When the ability to produce such layered and well-designed tracks is at it’s most accessible it’s inevitable. Believe it or not, I’m a fan. As an artist myself I love the access I have to software and tools that allow me to be ambitious in my freezing cold Edinburgh studio.

Yet therein lies the dichotomy. I can make intense CGI, green screen films in a cold dark room in the back of a warehouse freezing my tits off with a crappy electric heater beneath my legs. I don’t live in the world of prosperity of Rationale’s lush tracks or in a world that allows me to feel like Skott is a wolf howling at my door. Sometimes I feel like the broke artist I am and need someone to relate to that very base level of life I have right now whilst I scrape pennies for a beer at the pub from behind my sofa and here Swan Levitt comes in.

From the Isle of Wight, a place I’ve only ever been to in order to get drunk at Bestival, Levitt gives us the gift of a softly produced track that speaks to something basic that we can all understand. Missing someone. Alive, his debut song released on September 30th, is a track about a friend who had cystic fibrosis. Past tense is appropriate because unfortunately said friend passed. It’s a song that reminds us that there is always a place for wishing, designing and curating the most fantastic lives for ourselves but at a base point, sometimes we need reminding that much of the time we are simply where we are now. At the baseline of something present. A simple lyrical composition with lines such as “Maybe I’ll die before all of my friends” with a genuinely heartfelt voice reminds us that it is prescient to sit in our present place. To be where we are and thanks, man, you really did a number on that.

Until his debut LP is out, give ALIVE a spin courtesy of Organ Records and perhaps get excited. Especially for fans of Postdata and The Red House Painters.

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