A shining talisman sent by the trusty lo-fi gods to beam a path out of darkness - good ole Ignatz does it again. By now he’s gone beyond the moniker to represent a near-disembodied entity, a humble personnage dwelling in spectral zones where ghost birds float attuned to the primal resonance of loner blues. You Can’t See Me, Ignatz’s latest outing on KRAAK, fully lays bare the vulnerability that has been an illuminated thread in his music, cultivating the kind of sparsity which hints towards ineffable truths.
The present 7” contains four tracks of subtle magic. Presence and ego are fittingly obscured as Ignatz’s distinctive guitar work slips into hazy nether areas. Speckles of piano keys add an unexpected layer of otherworldliness to what is now a canon of comfort. Always unassuming yet unfailingly stirring, Ignatz continues to hold his own in a trajectory that pulls no punches and bears no gimmicks, his realness containing hues of pathos that reverberate deeply without explicitly revealing themselves. The invisible is not any less real, nor any less powerful, than what any self can behold.