— Do you hear it?
— Hear what?
— This track. Alice. By Miand With D
I catch myself thinking I would never have expected this kind of sound to come from Mexico. I always imagined it as sun, heat, bursts of rhythm. But here — it’s as if someone opened an old chest of records and put on the most worn-out, but most beloved vinyl. And you know, this discovery feels even better than if everything had gone exactly as expected. Because isn’t that the real magic? Talent has no borders, it’s flexible like the wind — you can feel it, but never truly catch it.
If you enjoyed the warm, vintage touch of Alice, you might also like Cirrus by Ian Ewing & Howiewonder — another lo-fi journey wrapped in piano and subtle grooves.
The track begins quietly, like an introduction in a dimly lit jazz club. The first word belongs to an old piano, its keys yellowed with time, but sounding all the warmer for it. Then comes the saxophone: like an old friend embracing you after a long separation. Its voice a little tired, a little husky, yet full of tenderness. Nearby, almost unnoticed, a rhythm keeps tapping — not insistently, just enough to remind you: time is moving on, even if you’ve forgotten to look at the clock.
And together, they become like a glass of wine that doesn’t rush to reveal all its notes at once. You take a sip — and it feels as if the music and the wine have agreed to speak in the same voice.
And you know, there’s something vintage about it, but not old. More like a photograph that still carries the warmth of the fingers that once held it.
Maybe that’s why Alice feels so close. It’s not about time or place, but about that sudden moment when you feel entirely yourself.
— So… shall we play it again?
— …
