Jun. 23, 2026
Ssaliva
Artist Feature #2:
Picture being removed from society. Sitting in space. Quiet. Eyes open, gaze unfocused. Body calm, or at least momentarily still.
If you listen while walking, it feels as if you are viewing a movie through your eyes, body on autopilot, the legs below moving themselves, and everything around you assumes a familiar, but taboo, depth.
Picture walking on an empty train track, old and unused, perfectly straight, seemingly forever with no end in sight. Your sides are lined with that kind of tall brown dry grass, and the sky blue but not in a bright kind of way. The tracks are lined with gravel and slope down on either side, not much, but enough to notice. There might be trees or something in your peripheral, but you stay looking straight ahead. The tracks, gravel, outlined by dry brush, eyes forward, sky pale and melancholy, but nevertheless blue.
With most artists of course, you can feel the location of them – all very tied to the earth, deeply tied to society and daily life. Ssaliva seems to exist floating out somewhere, and not even really in a metaphorical sense. Take the first pop musician that comes to mind. I don’t really want to name names, but for me it’s Ariana Grande. In no way a diss to her expression, she makes music through the very narrow medium of digestible societal focus; any existential implication, of which there are naturally many, are disguised by relatable elements of society – romantic partners, shit like tattoos, fame, drugs or so on. Ssaliva, seems to transcend this. For me, his music says things that are impossible to articulate through words.
There is a wisdom with no words spoken.
The music implies something larger. Some big answer or message. But, once you get there, it's not some spelled out words or arrangement of letters like you had expected. It's just the open sky.
I described it once to a friend as electronic shoegaze, and I've regretted it since. It's not shoegaze. To me, shoegaze is a kind of introspection, a self-pitying of sorts. This is far from that. To me, “stargaze” is a better descriptor. Looking up at the stars, you can be viscerally frightened by the infinite-ness, while in awe of its beauty. The music evokes extrospection, and the self assimilates into the greater unknown. The idea of the self becomes somewhat of a comforting comedy.
The music feels like an acceptance, but not the kind where you end with some kind of lasting peace over anything. It's the acceptance of blissful helplessness. And yes it is scary. And no you can't say it's not. You'd be lying. But it is also beautiful. A meditation in crisis. Calm in the eye of the storm. It is joy that brings sad tears to the eyes. A grateful pain.
If the music were to embody a person, it stands with a group of people, all of the people, but faces away. It is not passive, it is confrontational, but instead of yelling into the crowd, it turns and yells into the abyss beyond, which in some odd way might be the only place that will understand.
I will stand by my opinion that he is one of the greatest producers. Not because of some display of technical prowess, but because of the all-encompassing emotion he conveys with such simplicity. That is not to say that the music does not show a very high level of expertise, but it just doesn’t wave it around in your face. It’s not meant to impress you in that way. If you pause for a second, you can appreciate the incredible sound design, the perfection of it. But the fact that you have to go out of your way to notice that shows a real dedication to pure emotion. The sounds are in service to the greater idea, not an end in themselves.
His music reminds me of my father.
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