I was busy moving my Bob Dylan vinyl from the downstairs den/listening room upstairs to my office when, attempting to create some space in my shelf I saw the above album cover. I couldn’t remember it at all, which means I probably got it from my spiraling nightmare that was the VNYL subscription club (not linked because I don’t want you going down the same rabbit hole I did). But I’m a sucker for a sweet album cover, and something about Stench of Exist, the 2014 release from Boduf Songs must have stuck with me since I didn’t immediately stick it in the box of other records to get rid of, so rather than fulfilling the promise of copious prog reviews I set this on the turntable and gave to a whirl. I’m really, really glad I did.

The project, based out of Toledo, OH is the brainchild of Mat Sweet, who has been creating this meditative, gloomy introspective folk since 2005. “Folk” is a bit of a misnomer, as the music tends to evoke the spirit of folk while being firmly embedded in electronic music. Think Trent Reznor’s Ghosts project but rooted in the quiet, haunting moments of desolate towns, weathered buildings, and lonely outposts trying against hope to find connection. It starts in static, signals cast across empty air struggling to coalesce into something meaningful. It does, transforming into the quiet steps of “My Continuing Battle With Material Reality” showing off Sweet’s whispered voice and a solemn piano echoing across low frequency synths and pads. Things pick up a bit with “Thwart By Thwart” as drums drive the song to more familiar waters, but the sense of dark introspection remains, as Sweet intones about how devices vie for the mind, and how beautiful it is far away from here. After another brief interlude Side A continues with the vague Radiohead vibes of “Great Anthem of My Youth” before moving into my favorite track on the album, the sinister and foreboding “Head of Hollow-Fill and Mountaintop Removal”. As far as proper songs it might be the most experimental, a warbling AI voice struggling to find meaning in a jumble of poetic fragments. Behind it the music pulses and throbs, reaching screeching feedback before slowing retreating into the electric ether.

Side B continues largely along the same course, with “The Rotted Names” evoking a cinematic dreamscape where you struggle to arrive at conclusions that are nowhere to be found. As I continued to listen to Stench of Exist that was where my mind found itself: the shadows of darkened bedrooms, the feeling of slipping into that precarious fold where wakefulness and sleep intersect and logic is gone, replaced by mystery and a choked anxiety. And I thought about how while the reality of that space is often terrifying to find yourself (I suffered for years with sleep paralysis), experiencing it aurally within the confines of this album allowed me to find moments of dark beauty in that space. “Grows in the Small World of Nerve” brings the outside world in, rain and nature serving as the foundation for droning pads. “Modern Orbita” reminds me of latter-day Ulver, a very good thing indeed. Though still thoroughly grounded in electronics, it has an analog vibe to it, maybe because of the guitar that occasionally presents itself before returning to the murk. The aptly named “Last Song Save One” reaches the fragility of the best of Nine Inch Nails’ work, and Sweet makes great use of his breathy voice to slide his ruminations about (to me) loss and those who leave an imprint on us between the layers of a haunted soundscape.

In the end I was surprised at how affecting Stench of Exist was for me. It’s an album that slowly unfolds as you listen, revealing nuances and intricacies that expand outward. It might not be an everyday listen, but it’s definitely something I’m glad I have in my arsenal, and has me keen to check out his next (and latest, to date) album, Abyss Versions.

Still don’t know what a Boduf is, though the songs are quite lovely.