Listening to Seabed, the first full album from London trio Vondelpark, can feel a lot like reclining in a steamy sauna. There’s no easy way to pinpoint its sound, which tremulously undulates between ambient electronica, soft synth-pop, and contemporary R&B, other than by the sensuous waft of leisurely warmth that it imparts. And, like a sauna, it induces a pleasurable lethargy from which it’s difficult to rouse oneself.
The first track “Quest” is almost meditative, with its ethereal, mystical voice and wakeful ambiance gliding through unhurried beats and resonant guitars. This transcendent aura extends into the drowned ambiances and smooth propulsions of “Blue Again,” where arcane calls come from distant spaces and synthesized vocals slide cooly past. A warm, mumbly cocoon of a voice works us over with its strange intimacy and occasional spiritual fervor in the ominous track “Dracula,” then becomes a little huskier and more alluring for the prodding textures and percussive minimalism of “Come On.”
The next two tracks are the album’s peak. “Always Forever,” the most R&B-like of the album, revolves slowly upon a sort of sexy enervation, evoking the feeling of lazing about in bed with a lover. “California Analog Dream” gradually drifts through a hazy ambiance of lamenting harmonicas, wearied vocals, and faithful guitars. The following tracks can’t quite evoke the same emotive warmth; the sedate day-dream “Closer” sounds just too empty, the atmospheric R&B of “Seabed” is too protracted and tedious, and “Outro 4 Ariel” seems to have spent its creative energy. Still, if you’ve spent this much time feeling good in the sauna, why not stay in a little longer? It’s best to just hit repeat and relax.
