On dream island, alyzea longs for 2006

As the ever-prescient Onion foretold in 1997: “U.S. Dept. Of Retro Warns: ‘We May Be Running Out Of Past.” Internet fandoms have since found a cunning way around dwindling nostalgia reserves. Instead of celebrating the 1970s or 2000s, we now slice time into ever smaller increments. There are numerous Tumblr blogs obsessed with three-year periods and their aesthetic trappings; seapunk, vaporwave, and other micro-subgenres of art were based on plank-length segments of time. Semi-anonymous electronic artist alyzea welcomed us to their newest album by pushing us down to an exact year: “wake up, it’s 2006.” In truth, dream island is a mishmash of a misremembered time, ranging from 2006 to 2009—the span of Windows Vista, early YouTube, and the release of the Wii.

alyzea’s debut, dream OS, was a plastic, globular reverie for computer rooms, Logitech mouses with oversized trackpads, and Frutiger Aero’s utopian vision of the verdant greens and blinding blues of nature and electronics fusing together. It opened with a cuddly ARG-esque song called “Home Menu,” as if we weren’t just listening but interacting with a new interface. dream island seeks to expand itself into a full virtual world, rather than just an opening screen. The references are numerous, serving as reminders for how just musical late ‘00s tech brands were: the startup sounds of a new OS, Microsoft installation and training modules, and, of course, Nintendo, all attached a friendly, chiming sound to their products. 

Gabriel Gundacker’s strangely compelling shitpost album Unofficial Wii Sports Soundtrack proved that this entire era of Nintendo had excellent and specific musical marketing. The Wii itself is a deep source of nostalgia, and “blue horizon” even starts with the console’s pause sound, like alyzea had to replace a battery between songs. “aero plaza” has shuffling drums and synthesized pan flutes, bringing a tropical Super Mario Sunshine mood, but with a quick interjection of digital accordion it nods to Animal Crossing’s infinitely cozy world.

dream island is slick, brimming with staccato piano riffs and bubbly synths that float like lava lamp goo behind the main melodies. Touches of drum ‘n’ bass and jungle flicker in and out to give a propelling push to some of the sleepier songs, like the cheery timed race tune “aqua circuit” or snappy closer “sunset resort.” But with the songs’ microscopic lengths (the longest song here clocks in at just over two minutes), alyzea seems focused on introducing themes and playing them out only as long as they’re welcome before clicking the next tab.

The record is at its most captivating when it plucks from more amorphous emotions, rather than sheer giddiness or electronic relaxation. The weightless “floating signal” burbles and crests like falling waves, bringing to mind a much older era of Nintendo with Donkey Kong Country’s “Aquatic Ambiance.” The title track is also the longest and has some real majesty to it with racing, echoing piano lines rippling out into the mist. It’s one of the few songs that doesn’t seem to be firmly placed in summer, instead breaking through the clouds like an early spring sunrise.

While other utopian virtual and vaporwave tinkerers trade in discomfort and uneasiness, dream island is to them what Comfy Synth is to Dungeon Synth. The microsubgenre within a microsubgenre, comfy synth takes the lo-fi, midi-laden music of dungeon synth and replaces all the visions of oubliettes and blood soaked blades with hazy recollections of fireplaces and Tolkien bedtime stories. Grandma’s Cottage’s twee-as-heck odes to The Shire are temporally displaced from dream island, but both revel in the comfort of the past, chalk full of purely giddy memories that ignore even a hint of darkness. 

alyzea has put out two albums in two years, both of which explore a charmed and charming view of the near-past. But where do they go from here? dream island is more than a simple lark—the production and mixing are a treat, alyzea’s natural ear for melodies is uncanny, and there are signs of a deeper world beyond nostalgia with songs like “floating signal.” And, honestly, we don’t necessarily need a hauntology album revealing capitalistic evils through the lens of Club Penguin. But given that alyzea’s music is obsessed with such a short time span, how much more is there to mine? There’s nothing wrong with booting up Runescape and diving back into your childhood, but you do have to wonder if alyzea will ever want to do something more. [Self-Released]

Nathan Stevens is a musician, archivist, and podcaster whose work has appeared in Spectrum Culture, Stereogum, and Popmatters. He currently runs the music interview website Woodhouse.

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