Have you ever taken a drive through your childhood town? Listened to old favorite songs, passed by familiar houses of people whose names you’ve forgotten, and briefly paused outside your old school before leaving it all behind once more? It’s a bittersweet, fragmented revival of experiences that live in you somewhere; a window into the bedrock from which you spring. For Trevor Powers, the Idaho-based songwriter and producer behind Youth Lagoon, the trip down memory lane didn’t come from a drive, but from finding an old shoebox of home videos in his parents’ basement. As Powers began sampling and arranging his favorite once-misplaced moments, Rarely Do I Dream took shape, reflecting his life through filtered memories and folk tales of a fantastical American underbelly.
The experience of Youth Lagoon’s latest album embraces sentimentality and memory, but the project is not gobsmacked by melancholy. Rather, it’s a collection of music filled with kind self-reflection and hopeful imagination, as Powers approaches the totality of life through small, digitized and grainy moments, showcasing and scattering them across irresistible melodies and buttery piano leads propelled by infectious drumming. The field recordings of him and his family, including his brother Bobby, become a compositional element and ground the surreal character portrayals in vibrant snapshots of childhood, forming the foundation for Powers to, once again, reinvent Youth Lagoon.
Above the found audio lies Powers’ most sonically diverse album to date, injecting the smooth atmosphere of 2023’s Heaven Is a Junkyard with fuzzy synthesizers, reverb-drenched guitar leads and infinitely groovy basslines. Heaven Is a Junkyard was a fresh return to Youth Lagoon after Powers had abandoned the project, replacing lo-fi bedroom pop with crystal clear percussion—drums, bass and serene piano layers floating atop every song. It’s a wonderful listen that lives forever in its pillowy atmosphere, whereas Rarely Do I Dream changes channels almost every song, flipping a switch to a new scene.
The broad instrumental palette on Rarely Do I Dream allows certain songs to feel thick and explosive, while others float lightly in the air. “Perfect World” creates a whirlwind of morphing keys and glitched out samples before erupting into a wall of distorted, disfigured guitars, but not before “Speed Freak” crashes through with an unrelenting synth lead, as Powers sings about tearing himself “like the dream in the face of my daughter.” On the other side, the powerful and challenging “Football” glides on dreamy piano runs like a blood rush, while “My Beautiful Girl” stands out as the shortest and sweetest song on the record, upheld by a simple, irresistibly playful and multi-dimensional piano melody. But even though the tracklist oscillates across textures and moods, it is held together by interstitial audio and Powers’ incredibly unique falsetto vocal delivery, making for a seamless, transportive listen.
Rarely Do I Dream is also commendable for its effortless dynamic propulsion. Many of its crescendos slowly reach emotional highs that resonate immensely on impact, regardless of whether they overwhelm or subtly tug at your heartstrings, especially during a couplet like “The summer taught me that / Life’s a baseball bat to the jaw.” An example of the former is “Gumshoe (Dracula From Arkansas),” whose euphoric release in its latter half beckons a warm yet distant embrace in a way that’s similar both sonically and experientially to the Postal Service’s gorgeous “Recycled Air.” More faint is the piano in the bridge on “Lucy Takes a Picture,” yet it so powerfully fills me with hope and sorrow. It soars as high as the loudest guitar on “Perfect World”—since “Lucy Takes a Picture” released last year, it has become one of my most cherished songs; I can listen to it anywhere and drift with it. I also hear a distant Radiohead reference in the cascading loops of “Canary,” harkening to the sounds of The King Of Limbs if they depicted human movement rather than alien transmissions (non-derogatory).
When Rarely Do I Dream reaches its end, and the gut punch of a sound collage that is “Home Movies (1989-1993)” takes its last breath, I’m left feeling full—full of longing for a life that was, full of mourning, full of love for those who are and have been in my life, full of gratitude. It’s a wonder Powers is able to be so intimate and imaginative that the music he creates can feel like it reflects my own life so clearly. I’m sure I won’t be alone in this feeling. Through Powers’ reflections and reverberations, one can recall parts of themself that never left but perhaps got buried in repetition. It’s music that is sweet to the touch and can move you with it, a much needed shake-up for those in even the most minor of ruts. Every listen of Rarely Do I Dream brings with it a slice of humanity, a time machine and an embrace you’ll carry with you.
Read: “Youth Lagoon Opens the Portal”
David Feigelson is a freelance music writer and producer based in 29 Palms, California.
