Seattle’s own Michael Ess didn’t exactly take the express lane to music stardom—he took the scenic route, complete with a few detours through spreadsheets and office coffee. But try as he might, he couldn’t keep music locked in the closet. Guitar in hand, and piano lessons from his grandma still echoing in his soul, Michael kept sneaking melodies into life’s nooks and crannies.
Then came a plot twist: he teamed up with Wayne Bliss, a Seattle audio wizard, and boom—magic happened. Their collaboration gave birth to Where The Light Breaks, which lit up streaming platforms on August 11th, 2025. The album is equal parts audiophile precision and heartfelt swoon.
The journey kicks off with “Aphrodite Dancing”—a deep, melodic jam that could sit right alongside R.E.M.’s Automatic for the People. Packed with intricate details and tiny, twisting melodies, it spins a dark, dizzying atmosphere.
“Reunion” strips things down to their bare essentials, letting heartfelt vocals take center stage. The guitar melodies shimmer with African-inspired motifs, weaving through the lush, almost magical synth pads that float behind them.
“Mandala in Blue” blooms with beauty and clarity, like a warm summer evening scented with lilacs. There’s a subtle jazziness to it — the guitar and trumpet weaving in and out, sometimes curling together like two snakes, sometimes drifting apart like diverging roads. It’s dreamy, a little mysterious, and completely captivating.
“Be Here With Me” is pure power-pop bliss — pulsing guitars and melodies that sparkle like stars in the night. It’s got that undeniable early Big Star energy, hooky as hell, and disarmingly catchy.
“I See Your Eyes” opens with dark, atmospheric textures and epic, Peter Gabriel–style drums before sliding into its power-pop roots — this time with a touch more introspection.
“Forgiveness” is another fascinating moment on the record. It sprinkles in hints of medieval melodies and a touch of baroque arrangement, making it a perfect bridge from the previous track, where the Peter Gabriel influence was already shimmering through. It’s a clever nod — those early Gabriel and Genesis tones — but here they feel fresh and unexpected. And the vocals really do shine here.
“Undaunted” hits with a heavy, viscous groove, carrying guitar and trumpet solos that twist and dance through the air like lightning in a summer storm. Lyrically, it’s a flight in every sense — waking up a bird in the sky, wings spread wide, free to soar above blue-green expanses. But just as the world seems calm, a hurricane arrives, a monster unchained — and still, the protagonist laughs in the rain. The track balances turbulence and liberation, it’s a stormy, soaring, exhilarating ride.
After the storm of “Undaunted,” “Never Said Goodbye” gives us a moment to breathe. Pared-back to just guitar and voice, it’s intimate and tender, with melodies sweet and soothing. The lyrics tell a story of lost connection and lingering longing — shared dreams, impossible kisses, and the ache of someone not coming back. It’s quiet but powerful, a reflective pause that sinks deep, letting the emotion of heartbreak wash over you without any distractions.
“One Kind Word” feels like a ride on the back of a camel. The guitars float lightly above everything, while the percussion keeps you grounded, and a mallet instrument riff (xylophone or something similar) adds a playful sparkle. It evokes the adventurous spirit of Paul Simon’s Graceland era, with melodies just as strong and memorable. Each layer is legit ear-candy on its own, but together they create a journey you don’t want to end.
“Abraham’s Lament” is a fusion of heartfelt prayer and dark jazz, a piece where peace, unity, and divine presence amidst conflict resonate through every note. The solemn vocals and brooding instrumentation create a spiritual meditation that feels both intimate and profoundly weighty.
“We Build Our Walls” is playful and airy, like it’s floating on wings or tiptoeing across a room, twirling in a gentle dance. It carries a light, breezy energy reminiscent of early ’80s indie R.E.M., with melodies that skip and spin, full of charm and movement.
“Hope Returns” is a sunlit waltz, carried by transparent, hypnotic arpeggios. The song tells a story of enduring love, loss, and renewal — from Sarah’s struggles and untimely passing to the tender bond between grandma and baby Annie. Despite sorrow, hope soars above like a dove, infusing the track with warmth, grace, and a sense of gentle, persistent optimism.
“First Snow” transports us to another world — a completely different world — where snow falls silently and twilight swirls around each unique flake. These delicate flakes pile up into massive drifts, transforming familiar objects into shapes softened by white, creating a layered, almost otherworldly landscape. In moments like these, we can pause, look at our surroundings and our lives from a new perspective, and understand something profound about ourselves. And you don’t even need to travel to a snowy place or step outside at dusk — just press play on this quietly enchanting track.
“As Silent Steeps” is a meditative ballad anchored by a gently repeating guitar motif that lulls you into a dreamlike state. The song drifts slowly, with imagery of quiet hallways, floating stars, and intimate gestures, creating a sense of suspended time — a delicate, hypnotic exploration of closeness, vulnerability, and the spaces between wakefulness and sleep.
“My True Home” dances between folk-like melodies and a McCartney-esque singalong charm, impossible not to join in on the “Ah Yeww” chorus. It’s a celebration of the sea, of movement, and of being fully alive — a tune that makes your voice follow along without even thinking.
“Two Hearts” is another tender ballad — a duet that will melt the hearts of the sensitive and may even bring tears to the eyes of the most delicate listeners. Almost certainly, it will give you goosebumps.
Closing the album with a gentle, heartfelt embrace, “Perfect” wraps warm strings, crystalline piano, and rich, caressing percussion into a tender finale. The lyrics reflect vulnerability and acceptance, echoing the idea that we are all perfect as we are, while the lush instrumentation swells just enough to leave the listener floating in a serene, satisfying close.
"Where The Light Breaks" is not just an album – it's a spiritual odyssey. There’s both precision and vulnerability here, a balance that feels lived-in, human, and impossibly intimate. Fans of real singer-songwriters from the era when music was raw and alive — think early Paul Simon, Big Star, or even Elliott Smith — will find something to sink into. It’s an album that doesn’t chase trends; it quietly earns its place in your heart.