Olga Weis
• Oct 14, 2025
Release Date: October 12, 2009 Label: [self-released / digital] Location: Vancouver, BC / Internet
To sing a new sapling into existence is to believe in slow growth, invisible progress, and the beauty of things that take time. Fifteen years later, that sapling is still growing—small, green, and perfectly strange.
The name itself evokes tiki-bar exotica meeting geometric abstraction. The album art (a pixelated, sun-bleached photograph of a tropical plant) suggests something organic but decaying, viewed through a digital lens. This was the era of Flying Lotus’ Los Angeles , Hudson Mohawke’s Butter , and the rise of “wonky” hip-hop—beat music with syncopated, off-kilter rhythms. But where those records were dense and virtuosic, Sing a New Sapling Into Existence was skeletal, loop-based, and deeply introverted. The album’s sonic signature is immediately disarming. Drum machines hit like padded mallets. Basslines are round, dubby, and unhurried. Melodies—often played on what sounds like a cheap digital keyboard or a detuned music box—drift in and out of focus.
It is humid, cracked, and impossibly tender. By 2009, CFCF had already released Panamanian Nights (a Balearic-disco homage) and The River (a moody, piano-led EP). But under the alias Kona Triangle , Silver allowed himself a different kind of freedom—one unmoored from dancefloor functionality.
In the hypercolor, blog-fueled hangover of late-2000s electronic music, certain records felt less like albums and more like transmissions. Sing a New Sapling Into Existence by Kona Triangle is one such artifact. A ghost in the discography of Canadian producer Michael Silver (better known as CFCF), this brief, seven-track EP (often called an album in fan circles) remains a cult touchstone for listeners who fell between the cracks of dubstep, glo-fi, and the then-nascent “vaporwave” aesthetic.
Release Date: October 12, 2009 Label: [self-released / digital] Location: Vancouver, BC / Internet
To sing a new sapling into existence is to believe in slow growth, invisible progress, and the beauty of things that take time. Fifteen years later, that sapling is still growing—small, green, and perfectly strange.
The name itself evokes tiki-bar exotica meeting geometric abstraction. The album art (a pixelated, sun-bleached photograph of a tropical plant) suggests something organic but decaying, viewed through a digital lens. This was the era of Flying Lotus’ Los Angeles , Hudson Mohawke’s Butter , and the rise of “wonky” hip-hop—beat music with syncopated, off-kilter rhythms. But where those records were dense and virtuosic, Sing a New Sapling Into Existence was skeletal, loop-based, and deeply introverted. The album’s sonic signature is immediately disarming. Drum machines hit like padded mallets. Basslines are round, dubby, and unhurried. Melodies—often played on what sounds like a cheap digital keyboard or a detuned music box—drift in and out of focus.
It is humid, cracked, and impossibly tender. By 2009, CFCF had already released Panamanian Nights (a Balearic-disco homage) and The River (a moody, piano-led EP). But under the alias Kona Triangle , Silver allowed himself a different kind of freedom—one unmoored from dancefloor functionality.
In the hypercolor, blog-fueled hangover of late-2000s electronic music, certain records felt less like albums and more like transmissions. Sing a New Sapling Into Existence by Kona Triangle is one such artifact. A ghost in the discography of Canadian producer Michael Silver (better known as CFCF), this brief, seven-track EP (often called an album in fan circles) remains a cult touchstone for listeners who fell between the cracks of dubstep, glo-fi, and the then-nascent “vaporwave” aesthetic.
