Thoughtfully uniting the pace and weight of chaos with the dreamy warmth of calm, William Jacobs naturally underlines the contrast between isolation and the outside world; the stillness and the sheer uncertainty, dancing as one.
Beautifully melodic in a kind of rising and falling manner, Scatter feels all at once like the world refusing to slow down, and the world at a complete stand still as you stare out through a single window.
Composed during self-isolation, Scatter brings together timeless neo-classical progressions with retro 808s and an otherwise organic yet choppy rhythm section, for a somewhat cinematic, increasingly intense arrangement.
Despite the clear sense of change taking place throughout, there are also several consistencies or threads of character that help keep it rooted amidst its purpose. In the artist’s own words, it’s ‘experimental yet accessible’. These threads include flashes of melody, that rise and fall, the tripped-up array of drums, and the general lightness of the whole set-up.
Jacobs has crafted this at a fairly humble sub-four-minute lifespan, and from a place of perhaps recurring thoughts and feelings in the face of the absolute unknown. As such, the progression represents this moment captured effectively in time.
For the listener, it’s a simple joy to escape into, or to use as an accompaniment to your own isolated commute; or contemplative break from the rat race.