And as you gently recline beside the warming flames, strums of almost-MIDI crystalline acoustic guitar fill the room, each one a hapless, heedless caress, soft skin of a hand stroking your forehead, running its fingers through your hair. The reclination is real: trip-hop flavoured beats make their oscillating way throughout the track, hi-hats ticking a 1.5x slower version of time as tambourine jangles shimmer in the half-light of the song.
Oh, of course – the track is called 'Old House'. I forgot. That, if you like to listen to music with titles in mind, would explain the comforting, heart-fuzzing peals of sound throughout – the sonic conjuration of a domestic snug.
This is not to mention the touching emotive ambience of the track, its thin washes of synth piecing together a hushed blanket of almost painful remembrance, with added decoration in the delayed bleeps, casting a mnemonic shadow in the form of a simple, childlike melody: memories of living somewhere that you can no longer call your own.
'Old House' is a beautiful tract of soul-soothing sounds, all textured with the crackly aesthetic of decades-old footage taken of somewhere long-forgotten, coupled with a foray into a transportive world of undeniable chill, sprinkled with the sparkle and promise of retro-futurism. Nice one Whispa.