The late American cosmologist and award-winning TV show creator, Carl Sagan, spoke often on the concept of infinity. He once said on his program Cosmos: A Personal Voyage that “Matter is composed chiefly of nothing. When we consider cutting [an] apple pie, but down beyond a single atom, we confront an infinity of the very small. And when we look up at the night sky, we confront an infinity of the very large. These infinities are among the most awesome of human ideas. They represent an unending regress which goes on, not just very far, but forever." To actually contemplate such abyssal ideas as “forever” is a certain act of futility, but also a very brave one. Try talking to just anybody about the idea of an eternal anything, from a 5-year-old to a elderly person on his or her death bed, and often times you may either find an odd reluctance to the subject or a vulnerability you have never witnessed before in that person. There is a psycho-sociological phenomena attached to the idea of infinity that can stir any type of emotions from the religious to the scientific to the political.

Local dream-pop duo Scary Planetary, comprised of Steak & Cake's Brandon Schilia and Bradely Kujawski, delves into these themes without a wince on their first LP of sorts since their first release, 2011’s CONTi ep, which was even more minimal, with only one song permitted to break the two minute mark. Their new album, simply titled LP, is a little over 22 minutes, but this is just another practice in the concept of infinite time and space for Scary Planetary. They have figured out the craft of building tension and release in songs a little over a minute or two long, and that is why LP is so atomic in the way that it totes a still, small voice which can subliminally converge to blow you away. But when listening, you must be patient. Stellar nucleosynthesis of the ears is a process, one in which may take days, even weeks. 


I have to admit, with such a name as Scary Planetary, and over-wrought, word-played track names like “Science Friction” and “Star Spectrum” I was very skeptical upon my first listen. Based on titles alone, I knew there was about a 90% chance that I was about to listen to a Pink Floyd or Muse-esque influenced space-rock album of sorts, but those odds were pleasantly proven wrong. The dream-pop vibes are all there, laden with the spangled reverb like that of Beach House and electronic tanglings similar to Four Tet, all wonderfully backed by simple, yet perfect, star-scaped drum rhythms. LP is mostly an instrumental endeavor, but is pleasantly speckled with lyrical tag-lines such as, “This might sound like blasphemy / But if there is infinity / We will eventually walk on water” which surprisingly does a lot to inject “Ultimate Ensemble” with Saganic and (dare I say?) spiritual contemplations.

“By Jove!” is driven by a similar muse. It builds with Civil War snare, some hand-claps are added, and a cymbal crash slaps us with, at-first, unintelligible chants which eventually translate into a delightful mantra: “It’s young and it is within us / It is young and it is within us.” Scary Planetary has an ability to compose simple, yet meditative hooks like this, and as a result we have no choice but to contemplate something beyond ourselves, beyond our capability. “Organic Outer Space” breeds electronic sirens paired with acoustic warbles, and it is again, a beautiful transition that makes a three minute journey stand between two mirrors, facing each other. If we had spacecraft that could travel at the speed of light, LP would be its fuel. There is something darkly mystifying in the polluted coos of feedback and bass in “Science Friction” that are schizophrenic and dreadful, illustrating the infinite idea that we will all in fact meet an inevitable end, and the strange void of the irrevocable.

There is something that the opening track “Another, The Other Side” does for the listener that the signature X-Files trill will never be able to do. The soundscape is riddled with sonic shifts from hi-hat clamors to hand claps to levitating organs and string. But there is still a temporary Apollo 13 hang-up to LP with the end-capped ”Dragonflies” which seems to be out-of-place attempt at Conor Oberst-like upshot to an album already budding with reverent sonic qualities. The song, paired by a poetic reading, is by itself  insightful, but attempts to book end a largely instrumental, conceptual album with the crazed suicide note of a soliloquist who believes he will be reincarnated as a dragonfly.

All in all there are hardly any “Houston, we have a problem” moments on LP. And while upon lift-off, I admit, I was skeptical of any actual flight, once I broke through the atmospheric dust I came to realize that LP does a tremendous job at facilitating weightlessness. Yeah, there were instances where I could see certain songs expand in some ways, but then the words of Carl Sagan come to mind, when he spoke on the googolplex, “There is no largest number...You can always add the number 1 to it.”

Grade: B+