Sicayda’s self-titled EP is a musical cave to retreat into, one that plunges you into the depths of dissonant bliss.
The winter months in a pandemic require us to hibernate, decorate our homes, bake banana bread, and endure a mixed bag of emotions. To preserve our sanity, sometimes we need something dark but captivating to take our attention away from existential dread. In a void of escapist rock, Brampton-bred Latino duo Sicayda’s self-titled EP is a musical cave for us to retreat to — plunging listeners into the depths of dissonant bliss.
Led by Kevin Tipan and Marcos Villar, Sicayda’s music comes from experience and growth. The music industry is in a time of economic crisis. Nonetheless, musicians are still going to make music, pandemic or not. Moving on from their preference for saccharine dream pop on their Sown EP, they push shoegaze into its more consuming levels of noise. On “Sometimes… Feels,” Sicayda discharge their affections into an imposing sound, combining elements of metal, shoegaze, and alt-rock while making it their own. Taking influence from Deftones, Sonic Youth and the Smashing Pumpkins, their guitars are loud, expanding soundwaves into blizzards. They charge through “Stuck,” a track that imagines them running away from their demons but is also steeped in vulnerability (“Still so afraid / Watched the walls close down / And the darkness scares the shit / Out of Me”). On “Drowning,” Tipan stretches his voice out through the sludge, reminiscent of Billy Corgan’s nasal but buoyant vocals. “White noise / White noise / It’s deafening,” he cries out in cleansing disaffection.
To create art in a time of uncertainty might lead to something enrapturing and cathartic. Thankfully, Sicayda triumphs over that creative block through their fandom and celebration of genre. Within their clashing instruments and feedback, it’s clear that Sicayda are true devotees of rock music, escaping into their own caves to create something gratifying and beautiful.
