“PERMANENT SOLUTION FOR A TEMPORARY PROBLEM” by Sjelløs

There are albums you hear, and then there are albums you feel. Permanent Solution for a Temporary Problem, the 22-track opus by Østfold-based artist collective Sjelløs, belongs to the latter. Carved from decades of lived mental health struggle, this deeply confessional release is less an album than a survival artifact—built not for acclaim, but for anyone who’s ever sat in the quiet ache of dissociation and wondered if anyone else knew what it felt like. Opening with the chilling and introspective “I Ghosted Myself” and closing with the devastating title track, the album traces an emotional arc with brutal honesty. From piercing screams buried under lo-fi textures to whispered verses that feel like voice notes never sent, it moves through anxiety, numbness, suicidal ideation, and moments of almost unbearable clarity.

Some standout tracks like “I Was Just Background Noise” and “Permanent” serve as emotional anchors—raw, unfiltered, and strikingly human. At the same time, every song on the album brings its own unique depth and atmosphere, making the entire collection a powerful and cohesive experience. The trio behind the project—Sjelløs, Ekko, and Loke—have created something that dissolves the idea of genre entirely. At times, the sound borders on post-hardcore; other moments feel closer to ambient lo-fi, glitch, or even spoken word. Ekko’s contributions add eerie transitions and fractured sonic landscapes, while Loke offers a grounding presence, a kind of silent witness to the chaos. The result is a body of work that refuses polish in favor of emotional fidelity. What truly sets this album apart is its refusal to inspire. There are no slogans, no healing arcs, no tidy metaphors for recovery. Instead, Permanent Solution for a Temporary Problem acknowledges that sometimes, survival is the only story there is—and that story is worth telling.

This is music made not in studios, but in bedrooms. It wasn’t produced—it was lived. Rather than demanding attention, the album exists with quiet resilience—waiting patiently for those who need it most. It’s the kind of work that finds its way into lives during late-night hours, offering comfort to anyone navigating unseen battles. Its impact isn’t in how loudly it arrives, but in how deeply it’s felt. In a world that often packages pain as aesthetic, Sjelløs delivers something far more powerful: solidarity without pretense. This is an album for the ones who stayed. The ones who are still staying. And in that staying, it offers something rare—proof that being seen doesn’t always require light. Sometimes, it just needs sound.

Garcia Penned 🖊️