There are EPs that demand attention through volume, immediacy, or spectacle; and then there are EPs like ‘of Children and Their Sorceries’, which achieve something far more unsettling by moving slowly, speaking softly, and leaving a lingering impact by its end.
The solo project of Chicago-based producer, composer, and technologist A.G. Syjuco, Black Leather Birds has always occupied a space beyond conventional genre boundaries. And while the artist may be known to many through his work with experimental rock outfit Jack of None, this project feels distinctly more like a private laboratory for sound, narrative, and atmosphere.
Across five carefully constructed pieces, ‘of Children and Their Sorceries’ explores the uneasy territory between anxiety, imagination, and existential uncertainty. Throughout, Syjuco blends spoken passages, poetic monologues, ceremonial repetition, and ambient sound design into something that feels closer to a collection of short psychological stories than a conventional EP.
From the opening moments of ‘Nothing Ever Grows Here’, we are drawn into a world where tension rarely erupts but constantly simmers beneath the surface. The production is remarkably restrained, allowing silence and space to become as important as the sounds themselves.
The centrepiece, ‘The Box’, stands as one of the release’s most compelling moments. Built around the deceptively simple premise of an unexplained package arriving at an ordinary suburban home, the track transforms an everyday occurrence into something deeply disquieting. Syjuco understands that uncertainty is often more powerful than revelation, allowing the mystery to expand in our imagination rather than resolving it neatly.
Elsewhere, ‘Monster’, ‘Almost’, and ‘Goodnight My Darling’ continue the EP’s fascination with psychological unease, each approaching it from slightly different angles. But what connects them is a literary sensibility rarely encountered in contemporary alternative music. The lyrics invite interpretation, rewarding close listening and repeated returns.
Musically, the EP occupies a fascinating space between experimental sound art and accessible composition. There are echoes of dark ambient music, avant-garde spoken word, cinematic soundtrack work, and post-industrial minimalism, yet the release never feels academic or inaccessible. It remains emotionally grounded, using atmosphere to explore recognisably human fears and uncertainties.
The result is a release that feels immersive, intelligent, and quietly haunting. Rather than offering escape from modern anxieties, Black Leather Birds examines them directly, transforming dread into something strangely beautiful. It’s an engrossing piece of work that confirms A.G. Syjuco’s talent for creating art that thrives in the spaces between music, literature, and dreamlike unease.