There are moments when a random encounter changes your whole day. You stumble upon a track without expecting much, and suddenly it opens a door to a place you had forgotten how to reach. That’s exactly what happened to me today when I discovered Cirrus — a collaboration by Ian Ewing, Howiewonder, and Lofi Sax. I thought lo-fi had already exhausted itself, becoming predictable like an old movie you’ve seen a hundred times. But this composition proved me wrong.
The Opening: A Quiet Invitation
It begins softly, almost shyly. Gentle synth waves with touches of reverb comb through the air, braiding it into invisible strands. At first, it seems like just another background piece for an evening cup of tea — but then something shifts. Percussion enters the space so unexpectedly that it almost makes you dizzy: djembes intertwine with familiar hi-hats and snares, while the kick and bass plunge you into a depth you can’t escape. It feels alive, improvised, as if the musicians are catching raw energy in real time and weaving it into rhythm.
Around the twenty-second mark, guitar riffs surface — warm, fleeting, golden. They remind me of that magical “golden hour” when the sun sets and everything around you glows. An ordinary balcony turns into a stage for the universe, and even the shadows seem wiser than you.
Shifting Landscapes
From there, the music takes me by the hand and leads me through ever-changing scenery. One moment I’m still on that evening porch, and the next I’m flying over turquoise waters lapping against golden sand. The track breathes like a journey, revealing horizons without moving your body an inch. When subtle vocal samples and piano appear, it becomes clear — this isn’t just music, it’s the expansion of imagination.
The centerpiece arrives halfway through: saxophone, guitar, and piano join together in what feels like a cosmic symphony. This isn’t lo-fi in its usual sense anymore. It’s a whirlwind where chaotic percussion births order, where harmony emerges out of disorder. In that moment, I feel myself dissolving into sound, leaving my “self” behind just to watch the theater of infinity unfold.
But the musicians know their limits. They don’t let you lose yourself completely. At around two minutes in, the rhythm calms, and I’m gently brought back to earth. Back to the familiar porch, the warmth of evening, the sense that maybe the whole journey was a dream. But that’s the magic of tracks like this: they show you worlds you’d never discover without such guides.
The Voices Behind the Sound
I can’t help but think about the artists themselves. Ian Ewing — a self-taught instrumentalist, raised on hip-hop, who walked through its history into the world of electronic music. His sound often feels like fragments of past cultures reassembled into something new, breathing both memory and presence.
Howiewonder remains more enigmatic, known simply as a name tied to Victoria, British Columbia. But maybe that mystery is fitting. His presence feels like the architecture of space itself — subtle, structural, invisible. The kind of work you can’t always describe, but without which everything else would collapse.
And then there’s Lofi Sax, based in Vienna, a musician with roots in jazz and funk, once a part of electro swing under the name Cab Canavaral. His saxophone here isn’t just an instrument — it’s a voice cutting through the mix. You can hear night streets, smoky clubs, modern stages where music becomes cultural dialogue. With years of experience across genres and collaborations, his playing radiates both freedom and certainty. He doesn’t simply join the chaos — he tames it.
What Remains After the Last Note
Together they created more than just a track. Cirrus felt like a journey — short, yet so rich it was like living another life. This isn’t background music. It’s a key, unlocking inner doors you might never open on your own.
And here’s the lingering truth after listening: perhaps there is no grand meaning to this world. Maybe it doesn’t need one. But there are moments when you feel truly alive — stripped of explanations, stripped of words. That’s reason enough to stay in the game.
This composition reminded me of something simple: life isn’t about meaning. It’s about sensation. About being able to open yourself to beauty, even when you least expect it. Just listen. Just be. And let the music guide you through your own clouds.
