Jaime Fennelly, as Mind Over Mirrors, makes music that pushes the known to the lip of the unknown, where it rocks precariously and in exhilaration. He scrambles the familiar and tweaks the comfortable, not through aggression, but a throbbing estrangement. When placed at a distance, these require longer reaches to grasp. The reward for this effort is an enlarged field of perspective, experience, and also of feeling. This is deeply feeling music to feel deeply.
In all of Jaime’s records—and, arguably, especially in Particles, Peds, & Pores—there’s a seed of the pastoral, some ancient shepherd’s song ringing through nearby hills and groves, but one also yearning to plumb the uncanny and the creative possibilities of disintegration. “Farewell to woods,” the grieving Damon sings in Virgil’s eighth Eclogue. “Let all be ocean now.” Fennelly sounds vast, enveloping wildernesses and the thrilling disquiet of their echoless grandeur. (Maybe Burroughs speaks to the borders of these zones: “Pulsing mineral silence as word dust falls from demagnetized patterns.”) There’s something of the heroic at work here, too, although the hero’s instinct has been suitably tempered—or awed—to know not to fly too close to the sun.
