Unimplemented Trap feels like it was recorded in some kind of romantic resignation – a sublimely laconic album full of sullen beauty and subverted cadence that no one outside of Chattanooga, Tennessee has heard.
Recorded in 1998, it represents Chattanooga three-piece Title One’s first full-length foray into the digital realm. Despite it’s (apparently tricky) binary gestation, the album retains that just-tangible sense of warmth and honesty of production usually associated with analogue recordings. Indeed, everything about the record feels born of a similar place – the instrumentation is full yet unfussy, the songwriting manages to feel personal without any trace of conceit, and the record coalesces organically at a wonderfully gentle pace.
Title One demonstrate a deft economy with their ideas; delicate spindles of melody are given their time to take root without ever threatening to fatigue. The production, too, is skilfully transparent. It gives an enjoyable sense of depth to the recordings – drums sound as if they’re somewhere off in the middle distance while voices seem to emanate from inside the listener’s head. And so the vocal remains, perfectly in focus for the entirety of the album, each lyric softly delivered in under-the-bedsheets late night secret whispers.
Yet Unimplemented Trap would never see release. It was only by chance that I had the opportunity to hear it; serendipitously posted at the same time as my idle perusal of the most recent bandcamp uploads. Extensive googling of the band offered precious little additional information, and I couldn’t find any more of Title One’s music save from Unimplemented Trap‘s twin 20 song EP (“a sort of improvisation/dada experiment” in the bands own words), recorded simultaneously. Somehow, though, the album suits its obscurity. The fact the so few have heard the record seems to give its hushed lyrics all the more significance.
Although full of gems – some other stand out tracks being “They Dance”, “Sick On Your Birthday”, and the gorgeous “Up & Up” – Unimplemented Trap is a wonderfully structured and paced record that benefits greatly from a one-sit listen. Ideally, “They Dance” would be heard on one of those long and lonely night-time drives – or, blending with the sound of a grey midday downpour, “Something Like That” would extend some tender solace.
At the time of writing, Unimplemented Trap can be downloaded from the band’s bandcamp page in one of those pay-what-you-feel kind of deals. You’ll be rewarded for listening to it loudly, on headphones, in the dark.