In my part of the world, the theme of the four five seasons has fascinated people for a long time.
For me, however, the seasons are not just a cultural interest. In my house, I grew up around my mother's paintings of the landscapes of her youth, each of them evoking a particular season. And of course she also painted the four seasons themselves. It's no wonder one of my favourite haunts in Trento was a tower with a huge cycle of months fresco, and that the first home decoration I bought as an adult was a cycle of seasons.
I'm an Autumn critter through and through, but my fantasy imaginarium has always been shaped by tales of the north and the cold.
For this reason, back in 2022 when I was rediscovering Dungeon Synth, it was a welcome surprise to learn that there was a canonical subgenre dedicated to Winter. I still remember getting lost in a two hours YouTube Winter Synth compilation, cloaking myself in the icy tunes and slow embracing melodies. The music invites me to look inwards, to cover thoughts and sorrows under a warm blanket of snow, and to rest...
However, Winter and the time of resting under warm blankets are not eternal. And, as the poet said, April is the cruellest month, breeding lilacs out of the dead earth. Eliot's words struck a chord in me right from the first moment I heard them, and Italian poet Cesare Pavese doubled down: "there is nothing that exhudes death more than... exhuberant nature... Everything lives and decomposes in itself. Nature is death" (from La Luna e i Falò, the translation is mine and I've taken a small liberty with it).
As you might imagine, I have some issues with Spring ⚔
Trigger warning for health issues in a medical setting for the next two paragraphs; you can skip ahead to safety at the next embedded player.
As I've mentioned here and there, when I was 13 I had a heart transplant. This happened on June 6, but in mid-May I got my first call for the operation (this is routine: more than one patient is called, then the organ goes to whoever fits best). I still remember the sheer terror of being driven to the hospital by my parents, the long wait when I could only think 'it's too early, I still have so many things to do before the surgery', and being awake at 1 a.m. in a hospital room with four elderly patients, one of them awake and cursing his younger self for having smoked too much. That night I was discharged and another patient had his transplant, and in a sense the experience prepared me for what was to come. Indeed, on the second call I was calmer and in a better mindset to undergo the surgery. After the successful operation I thought the story was finished there, but in the next 10-15 years or so Spring always was an uneasy and troubled time for me. It took me many years to realise it was probably a form of psychological response to the trauma of those two calls for the transplant.
Lately, and especially since getting engaged and then married, the Spring uneasiness was blissfully gone, but some recent minor health issues brought it back. It is not as strong as back in the day, but still I'm hurt that this old frenemy returned to haunt me. Cue the release of a terrific album with the very rare but perfectly fitting tag of Vernal Synth.
Before diving into Songs For Spring, I was curious to trace back the origins of the Vernal Synth tag. According to Bandcamp, it appeared for the first time on a cute ambient-field recording album back in 2021.
Then there's a four-year vernal silence until a Dungeon Synth release in February 2025 by Wulfsige, that draws heavy inspiration also from Medieval and Renaissance music.
And, finally, we come to Moss Knight's latest offering (at the time of writing this journal. Judging by his past releases, I'm sure he'll treat us with some new surprises soon). Let's cut to the chase: I love how Moss Knight's doesn't shy away from the dark corners of Spring, for instance in the song Vernal Pond. It's not comfy, it's not happy, but it captures perfectly some of the aspects of Spring I hold dear and true. However, Moss Knight is so in tune with the seasons (and himself, and probably with his place in his immediate microcosm) and doesn't stop there like the poets I looked up to in my youth to provide only a monochrome rendition of Spring. Rather, he embraces the dark and the discomfort in the more traditional images of rebirth and joy. For me, this is a truly healing message.
After Wulfsige and Moss Knight, there's another release that picked up on the Vernal Synth tag.
Radiant Scroll is, for the time being, a digital-only microlabel run by a friend. It collects music from different artists and/or personas and offers them in an understated way that's just lovely for Dungeon Synth. This has been described beautifully in April's Dungeon Synth digest:
Both Dawn Wayfarer and Radiant Scroll operate on the border of existence as an entity that is not intentionally hidden but unannounced to the general public. The creator (or creators) apart of this venture choose to just make music and leave it for anyone to find. This sort of model for music making allows things like the “vernal synth” dedication to fully blossom without the need for personal praise or attribution. Spring Sunrises is just a record in tribute to Spring that exists on an esoteric Bandcamp page and that is all we need.
Regardless of the Vernal Synth tag, I want to mention other "Spring releases" that spoke to me recently or in the past.
And, if there will ever be a thing called Summer Synth, this terrific split is my official first pick.
But let me circle back to where I started. I am a children of Autumn, and of course in my heart I am curating a small selection of Autumn Synth.
In my neck of the woods, fog (Nebbia) often means it's Autumn. Fog transfigures the ordinary and drapes it with mystery and magic, allowing people to rediscover everything with new eyes. Just like Dungeon Synth is the perfect genre for finding the extraordinary in the ordinary, or to see the magic in the mundane. And Desolazione Rurale has always had a knack for music that shows how magical and fascinating is nature around us.
Sjöhäxan's nautical stories are timeless and can be enjoyed at any time of the year, but to my ears they sound just perfect when the warmth of summer has left, and there's a slight chill in the bones suggesting that something eerie might happen at any moment...
But Autumn can also be a time of celebration, even when the workd gets dark and prepares for the winter sleep. Again, in the words of Kap:
Autumn Sunsets is three lengthy tracks of fantasy ambient if it lived in a world of broken machinery. While not fully dark ambient, the melodies in here are haunting but celebrate their isolation with tracks like “As the world sleeps, my spirit dances,” as if to say I am fine being awake while no one else is around.
I've already said how much I enjoy Midwinter, and how much it speaks to me. Technically, it is a Winter release. However, the setting is explicitly the Midwinter Solstice, a terrific and powerful liminal time at the edge between Autumn and Winter that usually happens around December 21. I'll let you wonder about the significance of this date for me. Here's a hint.
Until next time, may you find the music to accompany your dance through the seasons.
ᚼᛁᛆᚱᛐᛆᚿᛋ, May 2025