Pandemic Time: that’s what Tumy’s Homeseek EP takes me back to. It evokes memories of driving to a remote field to flip tires and run laps as the winter crept in without a soul for miles—just myself, my breathing, and my Bluetooth speaker. Last week I ran it back again, only this time, the three glistening tracks turned my elliptical sesh into a glide, after which I stretched through the silence of yoga class surrounded by others, the soft haze of the tracks echoing in my mind as blood rushed to my head and around my body. 

There’s a sort of arborescence to the project. On “Sigh,” you feel the roots slowly growing, moving throughout the dirt, anchoring your body into this sensorial zone where synthetic chimes are eventually joined by a very physical-sounding cymbal. The pace of the drums gently climbs, and you’re enveloped in the very spacey “Comet,” before the frenetic patternings of “Mourning Clouds,” which feels like a dance that leaps from tendril to tendril. Time passes, the way the music makes you feel changes, and it’s written so subtly within yourself, like rings on a tree.