Seldom Colin barely exists.
The Romantic Egotist is a lush record, with beats like rosebuds and harmonies that pulp like ripening fruit. He hopes you love them, for awhile, until the songs are lost in the vanity of summer.
Jaded nostalgia elevates the record. Between the electronic beats, pining vocals, nearly classical compositions, and the sigh of the Belle Époque, a concept emerges. It’s not youth or love that you can rely on, but rather desperation.
The featured artists play their own vanity and loss of innocence, like actors trapped in the disappointment of the Romantic Egotist. The vocals flail against time and the artists collect relationships.
The music, beautiful in its Satie-inspired flourishes, persistent beats, and surprising arrangements, is the consolation you get for coming this far.