Observation Gentle by Vireme

# OBSERVATION GENTLE

The Loamfold corridors never stop humming, even when the facility sleeps. We've spent months inside these walls, letting the glass-lined chambers and flickering fluorescents seep into our instruments until they began to speak in new tongues.

"Observation Gentle" emerged from the dust of patient charts and forgotten reel-to-reels we salvaged from the basement archives. The sound isn't just noise—it's the architecture of unraveling. Each track documents a different procedure from the facility's classified manuals: the sterile protocol of "Glass Ledger," the disorienting repetition loops of "Mimetics," the strange catharsis of "Null Therapy."

We wanted to trace what happens when someone is watched so completely they start to dissolve. Then rebuild. Then dissolve again.

During recording, Mirek got locked overnight in the Observation Deck and swears the Amber Slab began to emit tones without power. We wired the CALM-3 chair with contact mics and found it retained frequency memories from whoever sat in it last. These accidents became our process—the album's skeleton.

The sound palette started minimal: prepared piano, bowed metal, typewriter mechanisms. But as sessions continued, we incorporated the building itself—the hum of dead PA systems, the peculiar acoustics of the staff corridors, the rhythmic drip from ceiling tiles that seemed to follow our tempo perfectly.

When we played "Mesmer Swivel" for the first time, three light fixtures blew simultaneously.

If you listen closely, each side of the album mirrors the facility's twin treatment philosophies: first observation, then reconfiguration. The early tracks maintain clinical distance—clean, measured, documented. But by "Amber Slab," something breaks through. The system turns inside out. The observers become the observed.

This isn't healing music. This is what happens when the mechanisms built to unravel thought start speaking back to you.

This is Vireme's most cohesive transmission yet—for ears attuned to the spaces between institutional walls, for anyone who's ever felt dismantled by someone else's gaze.

Listen with headphones. The facility has things to tell you.

We scavenge the frequencies others discard. Broken equipment, mechanical failure, industrial decay—these are our instruments. Prepare for sonic trespass as we transmit from the abandoned Loamfold Facility. No melodies, only disruption.