Skylarka’s Somnorine feels less like a conventional album and more like a guided descent into the half-lit corridors of the subconscious. From its very first moments, the record establishes itself as an exploration of dreams, memory, and existential unease, rendered through a palette that blends synthwave, punk urgency, jazz-inflected harmony, and moments of outright synth-metal ferocity. What makes Somnorine immediately compelling is the deep personal framework behind it: each track is rooted in an actual dream, filtered through Skylarka’s ongoing meditation on consciousness, mortality, and the fragile boundary between waking life and whatever comes after. This is music that seeks to be an atmosphere, one that shifts shape the longer you inhabit it.
The opening track, “Half-Remembered,” sets the tone perfectly. It drifts in like a memory you’re not sure belongs to you, carried by melancholy synths that feel intimate and distant. There’s a softness here, a vulnerability that invites the listener to lean in rather than brace themselves. The melody feels unresolved in the best possible way, mirroring the sensation of waking from a dream and trying desperately to hold onto its emotional residue as it slips away. This sense of gentle disorientation establishes Somnorine as a record that values feeling over certainty, ambiguity over answers. Skylarka isn’t interested in explaining dreams, but wants you to feel the strange comfort and quiet dread they leave behind.
As the album unfolds, that dream logic becomes more complex and unpredictable. “Cybernetic Fist (Maru Malandra Theme)” injects a surge of kinetic energy, blending synthwave aesthetics with a sharper, almost cyberpunk aggression. It’s here that the album’s live, community-shaped origins begin to shine through. The track feels reactive, alive, as if it were shaped in real time by intuition and feedback rather than rigid planning. That immediacy carries into “A Man Beyond Death,” which leans into darker tonalities and existential themes. The track’s structure feels deliberately unsettled, reinforcing the album’s obsession with what lies beyond the physical body and whether identity survives that crossing intact.
“Pallid Moonscape” stands out as one of the album’s conceptual keystones, not least because of its clever use of contrafact. Built on the harmonic framework of Bart Howard’s Fly Me to the Moon, the song quietly bridges Skylarka’s love of bebop with her synth-driven sound world. The result is uncanny: familiar without being derivative, nostalgic without being comforting. It’s a lunar dreamscape that feels drained of romance, replaced by a pale, reflective stillness. Knowing that Charlie Parker and bebop traditions loom in the background makes this track even richer—it’s a reminder that improvisation, reinterpretation, and transformation are as central to Somnorine as synthesisers and distortion.
Midway through the record, “Amid the Burning Blossoms” and “Heroe’s Homecoming” expand the emotional range even further. These tracks feel more narrative, as if fragments of myth and memory are colliding. There’s a bittersweet heroism here, but it’s fragile, tinged with the knowledge that triumph is fleeting and often illusory. Skylarka’s interest in existential philosophy becomes more explicit in these moments, yet the music never feels academic or distant. Instead, it’s deeply human—concerned with longing, fatigue, and the quiet hope that meaning might still be found in the midst of uncertainty.
Then comes “The Witch House,” the album’s most abrasive and confrontational moment. Described aptly as a “ripping synth-metal nightmare,” this track represents the night of the soul at the heart of Somnorine. The synths snarl and tear, the rhythms pound with relentless intensity, and any sense of dreamlike comfort is replaced by anxiety and confrontation. This is the album at its most punishing, and it works precisely because of that extremity. Rather than feeling gratuitous, the aggression feels earned—a necessary plunge into chaos before clarity can emerge. It’s the sound of being trapped inside a dream that refuses to soften its edges.
After that descent, “Unearthly Vagabond” offers a strange sense of motion and release. The track feels restless, as if wandering through unfamiliar mental terrain without a map. There’s a looseness here that contrasts sharply with the rigidity of “The Witch House,” suggesting a gradual movement toward acceptance rather than control. This wandering quality reflects Skylarka’s broader philosophical journey—coming to terms with impermanence, with the idea that certainty may be neither possible nor necessary. The music breathes more here, allowing space for reflection after the album’s most intense emotional peaks.
The closing track, “Mo(u)rning Lazarus,” ties the album’s themes together with striking clarity. Framed as an existentialist punk anthem, it feels like a conscious awakening after the long, dreamlike state that preceded it. There’s even a direct lyrical callback to Iron Chic, underscoring the influence of bands that channel anxiety and existential dread into cathartic release. The title itself is telling: mourning and morning collapse into one another, suggesting a merging of grief and rebirth. It’s a fitting conclusion, one that doesn’t resolve the album’s questions so much as acknowledge them openly and move forward anyway.
Beyond its music, Somnorine stands out for the way it was created. Much of the album was produced live on Twitch, with Skylarka’s community actively shaping lyrics and arrangements in real time. That collaborative process gives the record an unusual warmth and immediacy—you can sense the presence of many minds converging on a shared emotional space. It’s also significant as Skylarka’s second full-length release under this identity, marking a clear maturation of his sound and artistic confidence. Weird, vulnerable, and unafraid to dwell in discomfort, Somnorine is an album that rewards patience and repeated listening. It asks you to dream alongside it, and maybe wake up a little changed.
For more information, follow Skylarka:
Website – Spotify – YouTube – Bandcamp
