Kelas Malam's second record was written, performed and mixed entirely in a bedroom studio built from a mattress leaned against a wall for sound dampening, and it sounds like it — not in the pejorative sense, but as a genuinely audible production choice that shapes the whole listen.
The vocal takes sit close and dry, almost uncomfortably intimate, a texture the artist has said in interviews was a direct result of not having a proper vocal booth rather than a stylistic decision made in the abstract. The effect, whatever its origin, works: the record feels less like a performance you're watching and more like a conversation you're overhearing.
“You can hear the room on every track, and the room is doing half the work.”
Where the DIY constraints show more awkwardly is in the low end — several tracks have a thin, boxy bass that a properly treated room would have caught and corrected. It's a fair trade-off given the record's total budget was reportedly under the cost of a single day at a commercial studio, but it's audible, and worth naming rather than romanticising away.
Lyrically the record is at its best when it stays specific and small: a song about a shared apartment's broken washing machine does more emotional work than the two more abstract, image-heavy tracks that bookend the album. The scale of the record's ambition matches the scale of its production, and that consistency is its real strength.
It won't be mistaken for a big-budget release, and it isn't trying to be. As a document of exactly what one person can make alone with a mattress and patience, it's a genuinely strong record. Recommended, imperfections included.
