Erik Sanko: Past Imperfect Present Tense

From the opening moments of “While You Were Out”, Erik Sanko’s Past Imperfect Present Tense is a quiet exercise in nervous melancholy. His music is purposely restrained and a bit uncomfortable. Even in its lighter moments, Past Imperfect Present Tense never lets you forget what is at the heart of Sanko’s music.

Singing in a voice that barely rises above a whisper, Sanko seems to want to tell his listeners his secrets. He doesn’t seem entirely sure of this decision, though, and his arrangements possess a sort of off-kilter feel that keeps it from being entirely satisfying. Sanko has enough knowledge to work with this effect. While his songs seem sweet, as they often do, there is something that isn’t quite right about them. Although the lulling guitars make his music seem simple on the surface, this is nothing but deception. While it may not be the most complex music, Sanko seems to have stripped away all unnecessary elements, leaving just an empty strangeness.

Past Imperfect Present Tense is marred by its sleepy tone, however. It’s lovely, in an eerie sort of way, but Sanko never explores any interesting territory. Instead, it just meanders along quietly, never rising or falling. Even songs like “I Get Along Fine” where he is accompanied by computerized voices, fail to break away from this basic mold. His attempts to be unusual don’t work as well as they should, and the rest of his music is haunted by a slight ineffectiveness, not ever bothering to make a true emotional connection to listeners. Sanko’s good points do even out his bad, but there’s a sense that this album is a bit incomplete.

Sanko expresses his personal sorrows in his lyrics while never being weighed down by them. “I still see the outlines where you used to sleep” he murmurs regretfully in “The Ghost of a Snake” and in “Blow Wind, Blow” he sings “send me someone new and I’ll be fine” with a strange sinister tinge to his voice. He doesn’t descend into the traditional gloom-and-doom clichés despite his unnerving sound, and this keeps his music feeling genuine.

Erik Sanko’s Past Imperfect Present Tense is too subtle to make too much of an impact, though, and while it is easy to admire what he’s trying to do, there is something lacking in his music. While he’s great at setting a mood and tone, Sanko’s music isn’t open enough for listeners to find themselves in it. It’s oddly pleasant music, but there’s little that is compelling. Past Imperfect Present Tense has good moments, and is a good attempt, but it needs to be more than just that.