Pan is one of those mythological figures we can’t get enough of. A mix of animal and human, ambling between traditionalism and libertinism, Pan’s antics make for irresistible entertainment in ancient Greece and a figure of fascination for literary and spiritual movements that look back to Greek tradition for evidence of their own parentage. Chicago-based experimentalist Haley Fohr, better known as Circuit des Yeux, found herself fascinated with Pan’s trajectory and how metamorphosis maps onto her personal life and her artistic practice. The essence of Pan’s idiosyncratic, melodic, messy mythology weaves its way through Fohr’s latest output as Circuit des Yeux, Halo On the Inside—a bold, nocturnal take on the folksy experimentalism that has become the project’s modus operandi.
If change is the only constant, then how we think about change is in a natural state of flux. That’s especially true for someone like Fohr. Her last full-length as Circuit des Yeux, -io, wrestled with grief as the ultimate emotional manifestation of devastating change. With the help of a small but mighty orchestra, Fohr suspended any subtlety to ensure her experiences with trauma and devastation registered. Halo On the Inside is different. Change promises something attractive, ascendant even. Fohr leans into electronics, looming over a gothic territory with plenty of detours into abstraction that accentuate her brilliant vocals, giving them an operatic quality. Her balance of catchiness and complexity is admirable, with little distracting from the ominous yet enticing mood that stretches over the whole album.
To say that Halo On the Inside feels dark feels obvious, but that’s a big part of the story. Fohr made composing her 9-to-5: PM to AM, I mean. She shifted her workflow to the graveyard shift, in the depths of her basement in a sleeping city, letting her hear her body and her surroundings in new ways. You can feel that visceral quality in the throbbing low-flying electronics on “Megaloner” that grow into a more constant thumping on “Canopy of Eden.” As reminiscent of Depeche Mode as a track like “Canopy of Eden” may be, it’s at least twice as ominous, but it doesn’t come from a place of pessimism: After enduring a chintzy tourist trap near Puerto Vallarta, Fohr fantasized a scenario where she and her fellow visitors could chart their own destinations. They could escape the God-forsaken radio that blared everywhere.
“Skeleton Key” and “Anthem of Me” both start quiet yet heavy and grow even bolder, holding the narrative weight of Ethel Cain and the whimsy of Björk. “Skeleton Key” oozes with a disquieting sensuality that erupts into a full-scale cascade of noise: “Unzip and show me the prize / Something to hypnotize… Go on, take it off, and dance for me.” The meteoric “Anthem of Me” has the most entrancing narrative arc on the album. Beginning from a place of stirring but seemingly in-control bit-crushed distortion, the whirlwind noises eventually fill the space with fiery roughness that each smack of the kick drum bolsters. Fohr is passionate yet controlled, as she utters “Anthem of me / It will rock you” before sending her voice into the high heavens.
“Cathexis” is a fascinating climax to the Halo on the Inside, which hits like the dream-rock of M83 but with just the right touch of nightmare. Opening with a minimal organ passage before embracing metronomic drums and Fohr’s warped, layered vocals, “Cathexis” slowly welcomes layer after layer. She sounds like a phantom encircling, alternating between reverberant bellows and threatening whispers. The underlying guitars and strings are resplendent, offering a base on which to stay grounded while Fohr’s voice closes in. It pairs well with the instrumental closer “It Takes My Pain Away,” a track centered on another minimal organ cycle and a production suite that splits the difference between peaceful and industrial. The pressure that comes on every grand, synth-laden movement before it slowly escapes at the close serves as a kind of aftercare, where every second of sonic stretching gives way to more and more relaxation.
It may feel like a loss to go without Fohr’s four-octave range on the closer, but it still maintains a towering presence. On every track prior, you can feel the theatrics mount and crumble; on the closer, you can simply meditate. It’s a change, but in the world of Halo On the Inside, big change is more than just a process. Grandiosity and withdrawal offer moments of genuine shock, moments where you have to look around and figure out where you’re supposed to be. I don’t think Haley Fohr divulges the answers, per se, but she urges you to enjoy the ride. Succumbing to metamorphosis is the only way you’ll let yourself open your eyes to the surrounding possibilities, to the potential for beauty or respite, or even closure.
Devon Chodzin is a Pittsburgh-based critic and urban planner with bylines at Aquarium Drunkard, Stereogum, Bandcamp Daily and more. He can be found on social media, sometimes.
