iji
Bubble
TEAM LOVE
6/10
Seattle collective iji (that’s EE-hee) says that Bubble, their second album, named itself. They merely went where the music took them, acting as vessels. That’s precisely what the album feels like. It’s an exercise in stream-of-consciousness collaboration that’s guided by energy—as much as a planned studio album recorded in five days can be, anyway. It exists between saxophone runs and basslines, seemingly powered by nothing but vibes and the summer sun. It’s got no place else to be, and it’s happy to be here.
Bubble is a product of the shared dream journal the band kept while on tour last year. Zach Burba, iji’s ringleader and chief dream-wrangler, was inspired by that headspace, where half-formed thoughts bounce off of each other without ever actually connecting. On “Orange Peel Moniker,” Burba sings, “Visions of the mind assembling, I can’t remember anything, old receptions coming in / Green pen, Thousand Island, Reno sweatshirt, you understand / But I wrote this down: Orange Peel Moniker.” If you’ve ever wanted the Butthole Surfers to mellow out a little more or for “It’s the End of the World as We Know It (And I Feel Fine)” to be less frantic and more psychedelic, welcome to the Bubble. Burba’s voice is appropriately light and whimsical, and the musicians play well off of each other.
This is a quintessential summer release. It’s fleeting, and there’s not a whole lot to grab onto. We’re here, and then we’re there, with no explanation given. Many of the songs end abruptly, as dreams are wont to do. Bubble ends with a pop on “What’s Happening,” with a sound effect that evokes afternoons spent playing video games. It’s not an outstanding album, but it’s fun, which is a fine thing to be. Bubble works if you’re open to floating along with iji, even if you’re not really sure why you’re there in the first place. But, like most dreams, it isn’t especially memorable.
