Jesse Sykes and the Sweet Hereafter spread out sound underground and aquatic, swimming swimming soft and supple. There’s a waviness in the voice and in the melodic approach; we are undulating and cooing alongside in an underwater womb. A wet, warm wash: echolocating ping-ping like submarines. Feeling like floating or falling but first, before immersion, making a mental note: “So this is what it feels like.” There’s weightlessness and sleepy trancelike reverie and everything is blurry. Everything is velveteen.