quête:bea

SYML is the solo venture of artist Brian Fennell. Welsh for “simple”—he makes music that taps into the instincts that drive us to places of sanctuary, whether that be a place or a person. Born and raised in Seattle, Fennell studied piano and became a self-taught producer, programmer, and guitarist. Says Fennell about his album Nobody Lives Here, "We change, the world changes, and there is so much unknown. About a year ago I started writing songs that represent the change that is happening in front of my face, a group that have emerged to become the third SYML album. Many of these songs are about getting older, and the intimate, and sometimes frightening, passing of time. Some are about how getting older revolves around looking forward to things happening, and when they don’t happen, or they feel different than anticipated, we can be left with surprise and sadness. I’m actually reminded of this watching my 2 year old! We learn to live with disappointment. I recorded some of these songs with kids and dogs making noise in the background, and others in silent studios with musicians I’ve listened to and admired for many years. These songs are meant to be pieces of clothing to wear as you need (or I need). Some are bright and bold and others are gentle, but they were all made with a sense of comfort in mind, even when things feel bleak. My wife jokes that when our friends hear some of these songs, they might think we are not “ok”. Thankfully, putting myself inside a sad song is still a good place to feel happy. There's this generally unspoken feeling that musicians don’t listen to their own music. That isn’t true for me. I love living with my songs because their meaning changes as I change. There is as much fear and beauty in the big questions as there is wonder and possibility in the simple, everyday shit we live through.”

The Passion of the Christ is a 2004 biblical drama film by Mel Gibson with music composed by John Debney. The soundtrack received an Academy Award nomination for Best Original Score and it was on the first place in both Top Christian Albums and Top Soundtracks in 2004. In 2005, the album won a Dove Award for Instrumental album of the year at the 36th GMA Dove Awards. The soundtrack succeeds as a coherent, moving, well-executed musical statement whether or not one has seen the film. The album is a combination of folk instruments, Eastern-tinged harmonics, solo, and choral voices. Debney worked together with Indian master violinist and vocalist L. Shankar, and singer/double-violinist Gingger Shankar. The Passion of the Christ is available as a limited edition of 750 numbered copies on gold coloured vinyl and includes a 4-page booklet.

On April 4th, Brighton-based Australian vocalist, producer, and multi-instrumentalist Penelope Trappes will release her fifth full-length album ‘A Requiem’. It comes alongside news of her signing to London imprint, One Little Independent Records. ‘A Requiem’ collects ten haunting, ambient soundscapes - incantations of dreams and nightmares, of death and grief, as well as power and autonomy. Carnal, transcendent cello drones are used to exorcise historical and generational traumas in an evocative and macabre piece of gothic experimentalism.

Seeking solitude for what she knew would be an intense and cathartic writing experience, Trappes travelled to Scotland and isolated completely. Amidst meditative and psychedelic states, she channeled demons and accessed parts of herself she’d long desired to cleanse. During candle-lit recording sessions she found herself drawn to cello, an instrument she has no formal training in, she explains, “I always felt an affinity toward the cello, I embraced it, held it, and became one with it as a way to accompany my voice. The nerve-like strings of the cello became external chords of my vocal folds… I scratched on them, leaned into them, and conjured all of the textures I could muster”.

‘A Requiem’ is a musical service in honour of the dead, a sanctuary Trappes built for herself to explore familial chaos and history. “I was looking for an equilibrium between a ‘heaven' and a ‘hell’” she explains, “screaming out to the wisdom of our foremothers - surfacing and leading me into true strength and beauty. I listened to the sorrow closely. Death is a part of our reality. Inevitable. Omnipresent. But nightmares can be beautiful”.

She continues, “This album is my personal requiem for my parents, my ties to the land where I was born, along with all of my epigenetically connected ancestors before them. The songs helped me summon up the strength to move through my own awareness of mortality, death, and impending loss. This album is a living funeral. It’s a ceremonial collection of music. It’s an externalising of the power and strength to fight the generations of abuse and darkness that my parents self-admittedly played out in their parenting and to keep it away from my own social patterns and my psyche. It’s not an uncommon thing in the world and this lamented warcry goes out to everyone to help exorcise patriarchal, political, and religious systems of abuses of power”.

j.o.y.s. is both the moniker of and the debut self-titled LP by the Los Angeles based artist Ramon Narvaez. j.o.y.s. is an acronym for “jump out of your skin”. While the phrase can conjure moments of shock and surprise, Narvaez, however uses the phrase as a foot lamp illuminating a path towards momentary transcendence through creating beautifully conjured ambient music that recalls work by Daniel Lanois, suss, Dean Hurley and Tim Hecker. While the pedal steel is prominent, j.o.y.s., as a project, is more in conversation with shoegaze and noise than what has recently been deemed ambient country. Heavy brutalist slabs of noise, swirling feedback create the sound bed of these songs. Collaborator Justin Gaynor’s pedal steel on this album operates as important connective tissue as both the road and the traveler between the light and shadow zones. Drones are wrapped in distortion, processed just below the threshold where we’d throw the word “harsh” around. Rather, there is a delicate dance between Gaynor’s top-rope pedal steel lines - always sweet and always just a bit mournful - with Narvaez’s ringing bass notes and noise chatter. j.o.y.s. revels in intransigence. Nothing can last. As Matt Colquhoun puts in the introduction to Mark Fisher’s heartbreaking Ghosts of My Life - our identity and relationship to the past are “portals in perpetual collapse”. Depression, friendship, longing are all briefly satiated while in the peak experience of creating something as a response to them. But even that is impermanent. These sounds - improvised, exploratory, ecstatic - are eventually edited, whittled down and pressed to wax - not tombs but portals to the past.

POISON IDEA’s momentum hasn’t slowed down one bit; this is still their brand of loud, potent powerthrash. Slightly more metal than in the past but the accent here is on the force and fury. Scorching. Each song on War All the Time flows into the other in a natural sequence for maximum impact and the whole thing blows over before you know it, but everything stays in your head, banging against the walls of your frontal bone. All this makes a good album, but what turns War All the Time into an amazing album are the lyrics and their delivery. Jerry A took the negative side of the world around him and expressed it in detail, rendered with words that can be read in a universal manner, expressing everything trivial and worthy of our puke in a language better suited to talk about the beauty of life. And those words remain as true to this day as the band’s riffs are brutal.

The intense friendship between two thirteen-year old boys Leo and Remi suddenly gets disrupted. Close is a film about friendship and responsibility.

Close premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2022 to critical acclaim and won the Grand Prix. Specialized critics praised the performances.

The film was nominated for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film at the 95th Academy Awards. It also won the André Cavens Award for Best Film by the Belgian Film Critics Association.

At the 12th Magritte Awards, Close received ten nominations, including Best Screenplay for Dhont, becoming the most nominated film of the ceremony and ultimately winning seven awards.

After training at the Music Conservatoire in Lyon, Valentin Hadjadj gained professional experience that led him to collaborate with the likes of Pink Martini and Gérard Corbiau, and compose the score for the feature film Avril et le Monde Truqué, which was nominated at the César and took home an award at the Annecy film festival in 2015. The beautiful score of Close is now finally available on vinyl. This is a limited edition on red coloured vinyl.

The intense friendship between two thirteen-year old boys Leo and Remi suddenly gets disrupted. Close is a film about friendship and responsibility.

Close premiered at the Cannes Film Festival in 2022 to critical acclaim and won the Grand Prix. Specialized critics praised the performances.

The film was nominated for the Academy Award for Best International Feature Film at the 95th Academy Awards. It also won the André Cavens Award for Best Film by the Belgian Film Critics Association.

At the 12th Magritte Awards, Close received ten nominations, including Best Screenplay for Dhont, becoming the most nominated film of the ceremony and ultimately winning seven awards.

After training at the Music Conservatoire in Lyon, Valentin Hadjadj gained professional experience that led him to collaborate with the likes of Pink Martini and Gérard Corbiau, and compose the score for the feature film Avril et le Monde Truqué, which was nominated at the César and took home an award at the Annecy film festival in 2015. The beautiful score of Close is now finally available on vinyl. This is a limited edition on red coloured vinyl.

THE NIGHTINGALES veröffentlichen ihr erstes Studioalbum seit dem viel gelobten Vorgänger "The Last Laugh" von 2022. Ihr neues Album "The Awful Truth", das am 4. April bei Fire Records erscheint, ist eine moderne Music-Hall-Interpretation mit Popsongs und 80er Nostalgie. Gefeiert in dem exzellenten, von Stewart Lee erzählten Film "King Rocker of 2020", in dem der Vorhang für die Magie des "altgedienten Punk/Alternative-Rock-Freiwilligen" (The Quietus) Robert Lloyd gelüftet wurde, sind THE NIGHTINGALES so aktuell wie eh und je, denn sie veröffentlichen eine scharfes Statement-Album auf die moderne Zeit, die zu Recht als "The Awful Truth" betitelt wird. Das Eröffnungsstück "The New Emperor's New Clothes" ist ein beschwingter, mitreißender Ausbruch mit einem dröhnenden Klavier, das den Song einleitend begleitet und dann in wilder, improvisierter Popmusik endet. Die Band über den Track: "A stream of consciousness. Initially inspired by the tawdry but tractable trend of the vacant, voluntarily egged on by ego hungry politicians, pop stars, beauties, ballers, ingrowing haters and hard-nosed influencers. One hundred percent on point with the nonsense of neo populism and savagely edited to fit the music, it is far from silky, it is futile and silly. Real rock 'n' roll." In den frühen 80er Jahren genossen sie Kultstatus als Lieblinge der glaubwürdigen Musikszene und wurden von John Peel angepriesen, der über sie sagte: ,Ihre Auftritte werden dazu dienen, ihre Exzellenz zu bestätigen, wenn wir weit genug von den 1980er Jahren entfernt sind, um diese Zeit rational zu betrachten, und andere, unendlich viel bekanntere Bands als Scharlatane entlarvt werden." Ihre Zeit ist in der Tat gekommen. The Nightingales sind Robert Lloyd, Andreas Schmid (Faust) am Bass, Fliss Kitson (Violet Violet) am Schlagzeug und Gitarrist James Smith (Damo Suzuki). "They genuinely sound more vital than ever." Uncut - "One of rock's unsung heroes" Esquire - "Still stunningly relevant" London Evening Standard - "Lloyd is the most underestimated songwriter of his generation" The Independent

Long coveted by diggers, connoisseurs and beat makers, here we have the first-ever reissue of Amedeo Tommasi's "Industria 2000", released in 1974 via RCA's "Original Cast" series under his Jarrell alias. These 12 sonic experiments - totally devoted to synthesizers - offer tense tonalities, dissonant ambiences, complex textures, white noise rides and muted rhythms that can easily be seen as cornerstones of what would become later known as Industrial Music, also anticipating the sonic landscapes found in some of the early Warp Records releases.
Comprising 12 tracks entirely devoted to synthesizers, Industria 2000 explores a range of stark, tense tonalities and dissonant atmospheres. The album’s complex textures, white noise swells, and muted rhythms can be seen as precursors to industrial music, anticipating the aggressive, abrasive soundscapes that would later come to define the genre. It is clear that Tommasi's work was not only ahead of its time, but was also laying the foundations for the sound realms explored in the early days by major electronic record labels of the 1990s and future electronic pioneers.

Legendary producer Ant, best known for his work with Atmosphere, proves once again how irreplaceable he is with Collection of Sounds: Vol. 4. This latest release showcases the lifetime of dedication behind his craft, blending his unparalleled skills with a fresh, expanded vision. With previous volumes in the Collection of Sounds series, Ant has traced his musical evolution, spanning hip-hop, funk, reggae and more, all influenced and inspired by extensive travel dating back to his youth. Vol. 4 deepens this exploration, introducing rock-inspired elements—guitars that wail, gnaw, and groove—while maintaining his signature sound.

Despite these genre experiments, Vol. 4 is firmly grounded in hip-hop. The opening track, “Hearing In Dark Colors,” sets the tone, evoking long drives up desolate highways in the dead of night. Tracks like “Created With a Heavy Brush” and “Just Another Three A.M.” reveal a mastery of diverse soundscapes, while the triumphant “Day After 2010" takes listeners on an unexpected journey. As the album circles back to hip-hop on tracks like “A Pinch Brighter” and “Prelude Revisited,” it leaves listeners transformed, further solidifying Ant’s status as a visionary artist.

Bethesda Game Studios und Laced Records haben sich zusammengetan, um die Musik von 'Starfield' auf Deluxe-Vinyl zu bringen.

In allen Titeln der Bethesda Game Studios ist die Musik ein wesentlicher Bestandteil der Reise des Spielers und ein ständiger Begleiter während seines Abenteuers. Die langjährige Zusammenarbeit zwischen dem Komponisten Inon Zur und dem Studio begann bereits 2008 mit der Veröffentlichung von Fallout 3. Die Musik zu 'Starfield' sollte sowohl die Weite des Weltraums als auch die Neugier der Menschen auf das Unbekannte zum Ausdruck bringen. So verwob Zur traditionelle und nicht-traditionelle orchestrale und elektronische Klänge zu einem Klangteppich aus Organischem und Synthetischem.

Während der Entwicklung hat das Team ein eklektisches Spektrum an Referenzpunkten durchlaufen: Es begann bei den Sci-Fi-Grundsäulen von John Williams und Jerry Goldsmith, durchquerte einen klassischen Nebel von Debussy, Ravel und Prokofiev, flog an Vangelis' überragendem Synthesizerwerk vorbei und warf einen Blick auf die experimentellen Arbeiten der Einstürzenden Neubauten und von John Cage.

In den Orchesterstücken von Starfield, die vom Budapester Filmorchester eingespielt wurden, beschwören verschiedene Instrumentalgruppen oft imaginäre Aspekte des Weltraums herauf. Schnelle, sich wiederholende Sequenzen in den Holzbläsern stellen Partikel dar. Streicher, die wellenförmige Akkorde spielen, imitieren lange Wellen interstellarer Energie. Die Blechbläser werden zum Leuchtfeuer der Melodie, das über die Galaxie hinaus strahlt. In ähnlicher Weise erhalten die eher elektronischen Cues ein Gefühl von Erhabenheit durch schwere Synthesizerflächen, die kryptische, sich wiederholende Muster und ungewöhnliche perkussive Schläge untermauern.

Aeralie Brighton (DEATHLOOP, Ori-Serie) ist auf dem Soundtrack als Sängerin zu hören.

Flying Vipers record murky dubwise reggae on a Tascam 8-track in their basement bunker. Their love of Jamaican and UK 70's roots and dub is their north star, but eclectic crates of records and a couple decades worth of punk shows bleed through on tape. Twin brothers Marc & John Beaudette on drums and bass telekinetically lock-in with Zack Brines' layers of vintage organs and electric pianos in concise melodic meditations. "With ‘Off World’, their first full-length album featuring vocalist Kellee Webb, the Boston area band uses this foundation to explore the fight or flight of contemporary survival." While largely original compositions, three covers encapsulate the lyrical and musical themes found throughout the LP; an alienation anthem from Northwest punk pioneers Wipers; the theme from the cult classic animated film La Planete Sauvage, featuring the acclaimed jazz harpist Brandee Younger; and quite possibly the first dubwise Sun Ra tribute. Their own singles like "Believers & Deceivers" and "Jackals" confront the grim reality of modern culture, wondering if life in America, and/or Earth, is worth fighting for or leaving behind. Through it all the drum and bass is there, to help you hold your ground and to guide your escape into sonic space.

Fraufraulein, the San Francisco duo of Billy Gomberg and Andy Guthrie, are master world builders. Their work is immersive — it wraps around you like a warm coat, guiding you deep into a trance-like state. Time moves in slow circles, folds in on itself, and unspools like caught fishing line. It’s tempting to say Guthrie and Gomberg construct a new reality with their work, but I think they’re revealing the contours of familiar territory, gluing together a complicated mirror more than constructing a quotidian diorama. Their music reflects a truth that we all share in some way. It’s the pauses between thoughts, the little observations that color a day, the beauty of how others’ lives imbricate for brief moments before pulling apart completely. Fraufraulein’s music feels beamed from inner space, the soft parts of our consciousness that glow like a flashlight beneath fingertips.

It’s also tempting to call Greater Honeyguide, the duo’s new record — and first in four years — a tool for fostering presence. Each composition can serve as a meditative space, and observing the quietly unfurling layers of sound — a footfall and a quiet breath, scraps of overlapping melodies sung like notes to self, synthesizers droning lightly in the distance — can be a very calming, grounding experience. But I also love to let these pieces guide me through the sulci of my brain like a slot canyon, emerging at some long-forgotten memory or idea. Think of it as a passively-active experience, like looking out of a train window, watching the scenery blur together. At the end of the album’s 37 minutes, I feel transformed. Not necessarily different, just in tune with something else. Something beyond. Something within.

die ärzte liefern mal wieder – das kann man beim besten Willen kaum präziser formulieren – the nuttiest
sound around. Und Schwarz ist selbstverständlich beautiful. Vor allem mit Weiß. In Karos. Shake your
Willy! Skank in the name of Jah!
BelaFarinRod sind – auch das hätte man schon früher wissen können – evilous men, denen nichts heilig
ist, vor allem nicht das eigene Werk. Zumindest, wenn sich ein Offbeat drunter oder ein Rockabilly-Lick
drüber legen lässt. Oder beides.
Frei nach der Regel, ein Lied ist erst dann gut, wenn er auch als Ska oder Rock-a-billy funktioniert, finden
wir hier zwölf Songs mit hohem Wiedererkennungsfaktor auf Vinyl und exklusiv zur Buffalo Billy-Tour.
Mutig mutwillige Variationen von neuen und einem alten Song der besten Roots-a-Billy-Band der Welt
(elt….elt…elt)!!!!
Eine Skank-de-force durch den ganz normalen Wahnsinn von Shakin’ B, Rudy Urlaub und Desmond
González. Du kannst gehen, aber dein Lieblingslied bleibt nicht ungeschoren!
NUMMUS CECIDIT setzt der Besten Band der Welt jedoch nicht nur in Inhalt, sondern auch in der
Form ein würdiges Denkmal: als Weltneuheit präsentieren die ärzte eine 11-inch!!!! Mehr Vinyl braucht es
nicht. (nur etwas weniger)
NUMMUS CECIDIT von die ärzte ist als 11”-Vinyl mit Downloadcode für Tracks und Lyrics erhältlich –
aber nur, solange der Vorrat reicht. Also zieh dir dein Kettenhemd über und jag das Teil. Haile boppin’!
Selassi möge mit dir sein. Denn auch du bist Ska
(selbst wenn du Billy bist)

die ärzte liefern mal wieder – das kann man beim besten Willen kaum präziser formulieren – the nuttiest
sound around. Und Schwarz ist selbstverständlich beautiful. Vor allem mit Weiß. In Karos. Shake your
Willy! Skank in the name of Jah!
BelaFarinRod sind – auch das hätte man schon früher wissen können – evilous men, denen nichts heilig
ist, vor allem nicht das eigene Werk. Zumindest, wenn sich ein Offbeat drunter oder ein Rockabilly-Lick
drüber legen lässt. Oder beides.
Frei nach der Regel, ein Lied ist erst dann gut, wenn er auch als Ska oder Rock-a-billy funktioniert, finden
wir hier zwölf Songs mit hohem Wiedererkennungsfaktor auf Vinyl und exklusiv zur Buffalo Billy-Tour.
Mutig mutwillige Variationen von neuen und einem alten Song der besten Roots-a-Billy-Band der Welt
(elt….elt…elt)!!!!
Eine Skank-de-force durch den ganz normalen Wahnsinn von Shakin’ B, Rudy Urlaub und Desmond
González. Du kannst gehen, aber dein Lieblingslied bleibt nicht ungeschoren!
NUMMUS CECIDIT setzt der Besten Band der Welt jedoch nicht nur in Inhalt, sondern auch in der
Form ein würdiges Denkmal: als Weltneuheit präsentieren die ärzte eine 11-inch!!!! Mehr Vinyl braucht es
nicht. (nur etwas weniger)
NUMMUS CECIDIT von die ärzte ist als 11”-Vinyl mit Downloadcode für Tracks und Lyrics erhältlich –
aber nur, solange der Vorrat reicht. Also zieh dir dein Kettenhemd über und jag das Teil. Haile boppin’!
Selassi möge mit dir sein. Denn auch du bist Ska
(selbst wenn du Billy bist)

„Ich kenne keinen anderen Komponisten, der es mit Brahms im Hinblick auf die musikalische Qualität
aufnehmen kann. Alles in Brahms’ Kammermusik ist einfach fantastisch, die Sonaten, die Trios, das Klarinettenquintett. Da gibt es nicht ein schlechtes Stück.“
Krystian Zimermans Begeisterung für Kammermusik begann bereits in seiner Kindheit und begleitet ihn
seit jeher. Er sagt: „Jeder große Komponist hat irgendein Quartett mit Klavier geschrieben. Das ist ein
unglaublicher Schatz der Musikgeschichte, der viel zu wenig Beachtung bekommt.“
Obwohl das Klavierquartett Nr. 1 in g-Moll wohl das bekannteste von Johannes Brahms drei Klavierquartetten ist, konzentriert sich Zimerman stattdessen auf die oft weniger beachteten Quartette Nr. 2 und
Nr. 3, um ihnen die Aufmerksamkeit zu schenken, die sie verdienen. „Das Dritte Quartett liebe ich ganz
besonders. Es ist ein verrücktes, kraftvolles Stück, das einen unglaublichen Drive hat“, so Zimerman.
Für diese Einspielung hat sich Krystian Zimerman mit dem Cellisten Yuya Okamoto, der Geigerin Maria
Nowak und der Bratschistin Katarzyna Budnik zusammengetan.

*180g virgin leaded vinyl in a deluxe textured heavy gatefold cover, with paste-on artwork and special anti-static innersleeve.* Note: The pressing is absolute on point!!!!

Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon with a beautifully recorded suite of songs and instrumentals.

" More than two decades since he blew minds with a suite of brilliant releases on Warp, Vincent Gallo returns to the world of music at long last in Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon, with the project’s full-length debut, “The Music of Butterfly”. A gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, while interweaving fascinating flirtations with minimalism and experimentalism, it’s a truly captivating piece of work that’s hard to get off the turntable after the first needle drop.

In the arts, the lines between genius and madness, as well as fact and fiction, often blur. Such, it seems, has always been the life of the artist, filmmaker, actor, musician, and composer Vincent Gallo. A cult figure and a member of various creative undergrounds for the better part of half a century, Gallo has courted controversy, ruffled feathers, and made some of the most singular statements to flirt at the outer edges of popular culture that can be called to mind. Arguably most well known for his work in film, during the late '90s and early 2000s - notably with his soundtrack for “Buffalo 66” and a suite of releases on Warp - Gallo became something of a sensation in the world of independent music for a visionary, incredibly unique and sensitive approach to sonority. For a time, the world was abuzz, waiting on bated breath for more, and yet time passed. Bar a few fragments, appearing here and there, almost nothing has been heard from Gallo, within the world of music, for more than 20 years. That is, until now, with the release of “The Music of Butterfly”, the debut full-length of Butterfly, his duo with Harper Simon: beautifully produced and issued by Family Friend Records - Gallo’s own label, founded in 1981 - in a deluxe edition that simply left us speechless: 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve. More or less picking up from where we last encountered him, spinning captivating melodies and gentle song-craft within the quieter temperaments of DIY, left-field pop, once again, and at long last, Vincent Gallo, encountered in an incredibly successful collaboration with Harper Simon as Butterfly, reminds us that he’s as much a force within the realm of music as he is within film. Not to be missed. This one isn’t going to sit around for long.

Vincent Gallo’s biography reads like the stuff of blaring beauty: a figure of moderate fame in his own right, who has remained at the centre of cultural ferment as the decades have rolled by. Born in 1961, in Buffalo, New York, as the story goes he ran away to New York City at the age of 16 and fell into the brewing counterculture of the Downtown scene, William Burroughs and John Giorno, in addition to the cream of his own peers, and began making paintings, music, and experimenting with film. In addition to being a member of the now legendary band Gray, with the artist, Jean-Michel Basquiat, and the filmmaker, Michael Holman, Gallo appeared in the cult 1981 film “Downtown 81”, before slowly beginning a career as an actor and catching the eye of Claire Denis, who brought his talents into the broader cultural gaze. Catapulted into the public by his own subsequent career as a filmmaker with “Buffalo '66” (1998) and “The Brown Bunny” (2003), both of which were marked by controversy and praise, Gallo further captivated the public with a partially brilliant, if not relatively brief, flurry of activity in the realms of music.

While Gallo had already been making music for roughly two decades at the time of his release of the “Brown Bunny” soundtrack, and the four release issued by Warp in rapid succession between 2001 and 2002 - “When”, “Honey Bunny”, “So Sad”, and “Recordings of Music for Film” - the almost fanatical fandom reached a fever pitch at the moment, allowing him, for some, to be regarded as much, if not more, as a musical artist than an actor and filmmaker. Anyway you cut it, in a few short years, he proved himself to be a polymath of rare talent. Somewhere along the way, while both were working as members of Yoko Ono's Plastic One Band, Gallo met the New York based, highly regarded singer-songwriter, guitarist, and producer, Harper Simon, who also happens to be the son of Paul Simon. The pair fell into an incredibly fruitful duo collaboration, which came to be called Butterfly, and “The Music of Butterfly” being their debut full-length release.

Written, performed, and recorded by Vincent Gallo and Harper Simon in New York City between the winter of 2018 and the spring of 2019, the ten tracks comprising “The Music of Butterfly” are cumulatively a gesture of gentle, DIY / bedroom left-field pop, falling within the rough territory for which Gallo became renowned during the late '90s and early 2000s, making one feel like barely a moment had passed since we’d encountered his graceful hand at song-craft. Stripped back and raw, while retaining a sense of warmth and intimacy, across the length of “The Music of Butterfly” the duo of Gallo and Simon weave something completely captivating at the juncture of minimalism, experimentalism, and pop: meandering moments of texture and tone, slowly forming toward flirtations of melody that flower into song and back again. Somehow playful and light, while also remarkably emotive and personal, it’s almost as though each of these tracks crystallised out the air, unlabored and exactly as they should be without a note or beat more.

An engrossing immersion into both Gallo and Simon’s remarkably accomplished minds, having followed the path toward one another after radically different experiences and careers, “The Music of Butterfly” is one of those records that’ll be hard to get off the turntable after that first needle drop, and rarely leave the listening pile for some time to come. Issued by Family Friend Records in a beautiful deluxe edition that is unmatched even among the most stunning recent productions we can call to mind - 180g vinyl in textured heavy gatefold cover with paste-on artwork and thick anti-static innersleeve - it’s lovely to have Gallo back in the musical mix after so many years. "

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.

Kneading dough is tricky – you should know how it’s supposed to feel. If you try too hard you could make it worse. It’s a beautiful practice – creation with a gentle touch, to work at something so it can be left alone. “If it’s too drawn out it’s awful. It’s easy to give too much.” Dance in the mirror. Contemplate your veiny hands. Who do they remind you of?

You begin by mixing flour and water. “What happens when your people die? Why’d they move the rock to the other side of Ulster Park?” Eliza Niemi asks two seemingly unrelated questions in a rising melody with guitar accompaniment, like fingers playing spider up to the nape of your neck. Gentle pressure. Strands of gluten form to bind the mix. A new question lingers in the binding. When she admits “but I don’t know how to tell if I’m feeling it or not,” that question surfaces through the text. It is reiterated throughout the album. When I’m working with dough I think the same thing to myself.

On Progress Bakery, her second album as a solo artist, Eliza knows to leave some questions alone – to let juxtaposition and tension be the proof. It doesn’t have to be hard. The feelings and revelations they provoke rise in the heat. The smell is sweet. Crispy on the outside and soft all the way through. She playfully slip-slides through words and sounds and images, delighting in surprise, skimming ideas like stones cast across clear water, touching down briefly with uncommon grace.

The question provoked between those opening lines resurfaces in the strands between songs – “Do U FM” is fully formed and beautifully layered, while “Novelist Sad Face” is a short, acapella rendering of gentle curiosity. What is holding these ideas together? Some songs demand more, seem to carry a whole load – eventually the skipping stone will halt to sink and resume its idle duty – while others drift in and out of focus, the way thoughts and dreams become interwoven before the mind is sunk into true sleep.

Music and words don’t always have to interact. Where she decides to keep them apart gives a new contour to where and how she puts them together. The kind of thing you’re supposed to take for granted with songs and their singers comes alive in Eliza’s hands – the little miracle of mixing, kneading, stretching, and stopping.

So often on Progress Bakery, Eliza teases out truth and meaning by asking questions. “Do I wanna be crying?” “Do you want me good or do you want me bad?” “Do I need an eye test?” “I’m writing songs in my head while you’re going over stuff with me — is that cruel??” In “Pocky” Eliza ends with a question that feels to me like the actual biography, succinct and revealing:

I don’t wanna be made to see
I just wanna ask “what’s that?”

Grace that ought to be rare, but in its care and precision is offered humbly, with great generosity, and without announcing itself. Eliza’s simple, miraculous music is given further form and shape by a group of collaborators – invaluable guest musicians Jeremy Ray, Evan Cartwright, Steven McPhail, Kenny Boothby, Ed Squires, Carolina Chauffe, Dorothea Paas, Louie Short, and Avalon Tassonyi. Together with Louie Short, who recorded, mixed, and produced the album along with Jeremy Ray and Lukas Cheung, Eliza has cultivated a richness in sound and texture that prods and provokes the ticklish ear. Barely audible guitar tinkering, a brief lo-fi field recording of trumpets, the harmonic clicking of a looped synthesizer, a flourish of reeds, a child’s conversation, each uncanny sound perfectly placed, rippling out under a soft breeze.

Lay in bed alone at night and ask aloud to the stillness,

“What were you doing at the Albuquerque Airport?
What were you doing there??”

And hear your question answered by a dream of swelling, undulating cellos. Try to grasp at the melody and structure. It’s not an answer (if there could be one), but it moves deeper, closer to the weird layer of fleeting moments and disconnected images, barely perceptible at its core. Wait for the dream reel to click into place.

Eliza took me for a ride in Nicole (her beloved Dodge Grand Caravan) and told me she’d been thinking of the album as an embodiment of transition – and I think every transition, known or unknown, carries the weight of new meaning, skittering off the surface tension of life as you know it, creating ripples, sometimes bouncing off and sometimes breaking through. There is a trick you can use to tell if a dough is glutinous enough. You’re supposed to stretch it out as thin as you can without breaking it and hold it up to the light. If you can see through, even if it renders the world murky and uncertain, you should leave it alone. I love this trick. It’s one that Eliza seems to know intuitively: work gently and ask questions and don’t always expect answers, and when you can, take a glimpse at something new, and then leave.