STARLIGHT IN THE STRANGE

Sean MacLeod’s I Know Not feels like stepping into a room where eras, instincts, and experiments collide—and somehow leave you humming on your way out. The track is built on a foundation that shouldn’t logically hold together: hints of 70s punk grit, the soft shimmer of 50s doo-wop, and the swirling colours of 60s psychedelia. Yet MacLeod threads it all with such intention that the song ends up sounding less like a collage and more like a single, breathing idea.

There’s a warmth to the recording that comes from its lo-fi roots; you can almost sense the home-studio quiet around it. But that modest setup becomes a playground for his bolder choices. The microtonal tuning gives the track an otherworldly tilt—notes bending just enough to feel like they’re tugging at the edges of familiar pop. Knowing those tunings were born on lyres before being translated onto retuned percussion adds a small spark of delight: it’s experimentation without pretension.

What truly anchors the piece is the chorus, bright and catchy in that unmistakable doo-wop way, offering a commercial gleam amid all the adventurous twists. MacLeod seems to enjoy walking that tightrope: one foot in the territory of hook-driven pop, the other reaching for sounds that stretch the ear.

I Know Not doesn’t settle for being merely clever. It’s playful, curious, and quietly brave—an indie pop moment where old worlds and new ideas meet and bow to each other.