Like a daydream underwater, the new album from this Montreal-based musician is hazy, distinctive, and melancholic.
Parallel is the artistic project of 21-year-old Marty Plaskon. Originally based solely in production, Marty has elevated his work to new heights in very little time. Since 2024, Marty has taught himself to play the guitar, started performing live, and nurtured musical partnerships with many established indie artists, resulting in invaluable collaborations.
Opening with the delicate up there, the sphere in which parallel is operating in is quickly well established. Not since Julian Wa have we encountered an artist whose work becomes apparent so quickly. Instantaneously world-building, his sonic palette is established in seconds.
With over 14,000 streams on Spotify at the time of writing, “hollow” is evidently one of the most loved songs on the album. Released as a single in the summer of last year, it acts as a great introduction to parallel’s sound as a whole, as well as to frail specifically. It keeps the tone established on the opening track, with a warbly, tender guitar tone joined by hushed vocals that sound like they were recorded just for your ears. Like a whispered secret between friends or confidantes.
Rock ledge takes the pace down. It’s a pensive, meditative piece that brings to mind the lo-fi bedroom indie of Start Track artists like orchid mantis and porch kiss. Lilting around the listener like some kind of audible aura, it lulls you into what feels like a safe space, but a glance at the lyrics will tell you that this song comes from anywhere but that. Ambient and atmospheric, anxious and agitated, rock ledge is a challenging but rewarding listen.
Up next is force, and in keeping with the album’s tone so far, it’s musically light and airy, with a definite weight to the lyrics woven in. “I don’t like the way I think,” Plaskon sings over and over again as we start to feel more than a little bit concerned for him. He goes on to allude to being found with “alcohol and kitchen knives” and the whole thing begins to feel rather sinister and sombre – as a songwriter, he certainly knows how to create a fair amount of tension.
I don’t think it is dominated by an ethereal combination of what sounds like a lap steel or slide guitar and a somewhat haunting acoustic. The drums on this one are much more prominent and add a bit more meat to the bones of the music. Musically, this track feels a little bit at odds with the rest of the album thus far – more confident and assured. However, lyrically, it continues down the same path. “Cuz I don’t want to feel this anymore / So I won’t have these feelings anymore / So I don’t / So I won’t” Marty sings, and you can imagine him numbing himself whilst he serenades you.
Weight begins with the “cleanest,” most traditional guitar sound so far, and is a second song in a row that feels like it bucks the album’s overall tone. Moving largely away from the wobbly, reverb-drenched sound it has leaned on so far, it eventually introduces an electronic beat that is almost hip-hop-esque in its nature. The shimmering guitars inevitably return, but the way they’re used – in conjunction with everything else here – is a welcome breath of fresh air at this stage in the record.
The most-played song on the album (at least on Spotify) and a prior single, “forest” begins with some almost Bert Jansch-esque folky finger-picking. It’s the most traditional style the album has utilized thus far. The guitar is backed, in due course, by soothing, dark, moody synths, and later joined by a female vocalist named Total (who also plays guitar in the deathcore band Torn Open). The two vocals work beautifully together and feel like they were made for each other. They certainly make the song. It was good at the beginning, but by the end, it’s great.
Blade reverts to the album’s now-tried-and-tested formula, and we feel like we’ve come full circle. Well, that’s what it wants you to think. It begins this way, but then, just when you think you know where you stand and you know what you’re dealing with – a horn? Of some kind? Maybe? Definitely. With a bit of research, we end up ascertaining that it’s a saxophone played by a chap called Benjamin. His contribution adds tonal and textural variety to an album that definitely knows what it is – but, when it branches outside of its comfort zone, can really take you by surprise.
Lucky has an almost doomlike feeling to it. When it begins, it feels like a Low track. Slowcore to the max. As it progresses, it becomes warped, deformed, and mangled – like tape disintegrating while it plays. It’s the sound of erosion and deterioration, and it reflects the lyrical content excellently. “Your face / Distorted by the dark / Pit in my stomach / Hands are way too far / Imagine never meeting our eyes again,” Marty sings, and the unease is palpable.
Shark concludes the album and is, somewhat surprisingly, a gentle, earnest love song. One of the album’s strongest moments (we dare say it’s our favourite song here), it almost veers into jazz territory. The combination of slinky chords, the return of Benjamin’s saxophone, and additional guest backing vocals (provided by Marty’s girlfriend, no less) makes for an enchanting and endearing piece. There is vivid, evocative lyrical imagery throughout the song, with standout lines like “You’re my everything / let me walk you out / girl the rain is pouring now / there is no one else I’d rather have at home,” touching us all in the feels.
All in all, frail is a resounding success. A multi-faceted record with a distinct style and sound, but with pleasing deviations that never steer too far from what is at its core.
Written by Kinda Grizzly
