Sun Cell Embraces The Notion Of Life And Death As His Muse On His Debut Full-Length Album

Sun Cell tackles the age-long theme of life and death (Credit: Clare Joseph)

The transience of life and the indistinct nature of death are poetically intertwined, but are undeniably open to interpretation when conveyed through music. While others falter or timidly approach that challenge, Sun Cell – the alias of ascending artist-producer Daryl Hor – lunges towards the nebulous theme head-on with his debut full-length titled Movements (In The Dark). It’s a narrative loosely inspired by the story of his grandparents, channelling the tenets of “love, loss, and the eventuality of a life containing both coming to its end.”

Movements (In The Dark), like the twin-toned relationship of life and death, essentially comprises two parts. Its former half comprises pieces written for his recent Movements EP, while the latter showcases several collaborations with other homegrown musicians. The ensuing collection is an evolving journey that hardly sticks to one route, but diversifies stridently in sound with Sun Cell keeping the bearing as its cartographer.

Big things have been happening since Sun Cell’s rise in 2022 (Credit: Clare Joseph)

On Side A, you have Sun Cell’s solo offerings that flaunt his propensity for brisk indie-rock and dream-pop. “Coastlines” is a sea breeze bop with duetting guitar hooks that roll like the waves; a rejuvenating spritz reminiscent of early Beach Fossils or The Drums material. “hard to find” hits with plenty of shimmery guitar jangle and a surprisingly anthemic chorus. And then you have slower meatier compositions like the breakbeat-driven “marry me” with its gossamer yet heavy layers, and the mollifying “afternoons” that concludes with a fuzzy treacly alt-rock climax.

And while Sun Cell’s virtuosity is apparent when behind the wheel, his artistry opens up with new possibilities with the help of his friends. Like on “The Pains of Being Pure at Heart” featuring Nosedive, you get a pleasant shoegazey ballad meandering through a maze of guitar fog. Xena Giam co-performs a folky sojourn on “june”, with acoustic notes skipping amidst Sun Cell’s somnambulant signatures. And on closer “for now, not ever”, Sun Cell seeks the band, motifs, to paint a picture of the afterlife, one that’s wispy, ethereal, haunting but hopeful.