The name might be new, but after just one listen to what’s going on here, it is clear that whoever is behind the PsiloMine Sun moniker, this is not their first sonic rodeo. And anyway, working under new and assumed names is nothing new; it can be quite a good idea, especially if you are striking out in new directions. It draws a line under any previous work, sets it apart, and, perhaps more importantly, removes any expectations on the part of the listener. Such was the reason for the anonymity here.
But even if I go into “Fall Back” without any reference point to drive my own expectations, I come out the other side, having experienced something great. Actually, great is not a great word. How about a word like unique, dreamlike, poised, meditative, or hallucinogenic? Take your pick. Pick them all; they all work.
There is something of the altered state about “Fall Back” It is a track built on waves of mood as much as it is music, on dreamstate drift as much as drive; it floats and flits, ebbs and flows, washes and wafts around on the sonic winds with only the spiralling riffs of the acoustic guitar fully tethering the song in the real world.
It is also music made in the wake of a personal tragedy, and so, as the artist freely admits, it is the making of music that has helped them through the resulting grief, depression, and anxiety, but as much as it is music of refuge and retreat, it is also the soundtrack to healing and hope.
“Fall Back” is much more than a song; it is a place, a state of mind, a mentor, and a comfort blanket. Whatever you need it to be, it is a shoulder to cry on, a friend to lean on, the sound at the end of the tunnel. Music has always been a powerful tool, but never more so when it is being put to such a poignant and powerful purpose.
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