Seattle artist Sybilanta freshly released Uncanny Valley on November 23rd, and the project immediately marked a decisive shift from the direction of last month’s Falling to You. Where the earlier album leaned into heavier, rock-leaning textures, Uncanny Valley arrived with a cooler, more exploratory atmosphere – one that felt deliberate rather than reactive.
The record didn’t dodge the ongoing debates around AI’s place in modern creativity. Instead, it stepped directly into that territory. Sybilanta treated the subject like a natural part of the creative process. There was no gimmickry—just an artist following an idea all the way to its edges.
A major part of the album’s character came from the collaborative process behind it. Creator Dan Fortier began each piece in familiar territory – early concepts, lyrical fragments, melodic sketches. Then came the unusual step—the iterative back-and-forth with his custom chatbot. Instead of generating finished sections, the system acted as a conversational partner. Lines were rewritten, ideas reframed, metaphors reshaped. Sometimes the collaboration reinforced Dan’s instincts, sometimes it challenged them. Sometimes it pushed the track in a direction he hadn’t originally considered. That feedback loop defined the project’s DNA.
Dan shaped the material by hand. The system’s suggestions were filtered, refined, and reworked until they landed at a point that felt right. The intentional imperfections remained. The production choices stayed human. The collaboration added perspective, not automation, and that balance gave the project its distinctive tone.
“Heartbeat” opens the project with a pulse that’s warm, like machinery learning how to breathe. The melody feels deceptively simple at first, but subtle production details—light glitches, tiny tonal shifts, soft electronic breaths—give the track a sense of depth and presence. The lyrics explore connection with a kind of curious honesty, as if the narrator is discovering emotion in real time. It’s a welcoming introduction that sets the emotional framework for the rest of the album.
“Terminate” takes the opposite energy. It’s sharper, more serrated, built on electronic edges and clipped rhythms that feel almost confrontational. The vocal performance leans into this tension, delivering lines with a strangely calm intensity. The track touches on the fear that surrounds machine-made creativity—the suspicion that something must be “ended” or “shut down” before it becomes too capable. Instead of moralizing, the song presents the tension matter-of-factly. It doesn’t answer the fear, it simply highlights its shape.
“Syntax” is the record’s emotional center. It plays with duality—human longing wrapped in language that occasionally slips into mechanical cadence. Where “Terminate” has hard angles, “Syntax” is all smooth contours. The chord progression blooms in a way that feels vulnerable, even though the vocal is digitally sculpted. It’s here that Dan’s lyrical influence feels most present. The phrasing admits uncertainty, self-awareness, and a desire to communicate clearly despite imperfect means. It’s the closest the album comes to a traditional ballad, and possibly its most affecting moment.
Other tracks expand the project’s conceptual edges. Some lean toward atmospheric introspection. Others flirt with rhythmic experimentation. Each song contains a small contradiction—cold but warm, distant but intimate, precise but emotive.
Even amidst machine and code, there’s certainly warmth, curiosity, and the quiet persistence of creativity. Uncanny Valley asks us to listen closely, not just to the music, but to the space where human and machine meet—and to feel that meeting in all its fragile, luminous complexity.
Experience more of Sybilanta by visiting their official website and social channels:
https://www.instagram.com/sybilanta
