Buscar:lights fluorescent

Made up of Dave Harrington (Darkside/Dave Harrington Group) and Benjamin Jay (NDF/Benoit & Sergio), Lights Fluorescent is, as the two describe it, an ‘experiment in the spaces between song and texture, idea and reference, past and present.’ On their debut album, The Oldest Sons Of The Oldest Sons, the duo develops an atmospheric, slant-pop sensibility that lists toward the experimental tendencies of improvisational and ambient music.
The result is a set of songs meant to be lived with. Entirely percussion-less, recordings drift on a tenderness of guitar, revenant feedback and vocals of autumnal intimation. Space Metal and July 9th process layers of bespoke noise and washed out chords to tarry with integral depth, light, and shadow, while Hotels distills country-western longing into its nth dimensional essence always unrequited.
From within these sonic panoramas, vocals emerge more as watercolor traces than coarse etchings. They aim to capture evocative, lyrical intensities, eschewing the solace of the literal. As such, the album favors 'the gestural, the implicit, and the miniature over the more adolescent urges of grand narratives and epic.’ These preferences map onto the album in all of its moves. J Girls reveals a hint of story buried, like its context, deep in whorls of feedback. Fleeting images of monuments, cathedrals, or epitaphs on tracks like Palace Walls or Small Sacrifices speak to a sense of memory and community paradoxically ungrounded by the material instantiations meant to keep things in place.

Who is Isabelle Lewis, anyway?

What kind of music does she make? Is she an opera singer? Does she write pop songs? Does she compose ethereal ambient soundscapes? Does she play chamber music on the violin? Is she producing dark, electronic beats?

Well… yes. But Isabelle Lewis is not so much a person as a project. Isabelle’s debut album, Greetings, credits a trio of composer–performers at its heart: producer Valgeir Sigurðsson, vocalist Benjamin Abel Meirhaeghe, and violinist Elisabeth Klinck. The sound of the elusive Isabelle Lewis is heard most clearly in the push and pull between them, the three-way tension that gives the album its musical and emotional drive.

Each of the three brings more to the collaboration than those epithets might imply. Elisabeth’s solo performance practice incorporates composition, improvisation, live electronics, and a close command of bowing and fingering techniques that make her fiddle sing, whisper or whistle as required. Benjamin is a self-taught countertenor - keening, crooning, and swelling to a voluptuous sensuality—but also an interdisciplinary stage director and performer. Well known for his work as a producer and studio collaborator, and as a composer of scores for film and stage, Valgeir’s solo discography interweaves meticulously crafted electronics, drones, noise, and other digital elements with acoustic instruments and vocals recorded with naked, unflinching clarity.

But the extravagant theatricality Benjamin brings to the aptly titled “Drama”—also featuring a heroic violin solo from Elisabeth—grapples against the thudding bass of the implacable digital backdrop. On “Mother, Shelter Me” Valgeir’s austere and detailed production throws the hushed violin and vocals into stark relief. The result is an exquisitely uncanny juxtaposition of past and present, human and mechanical, like a Rococo treasure viewed under cold fluorescent lights, or an 18th-century automaton slowly opening its clockwork eyes.

Even the lyrics seem somehow out of time. On “O Solitude,” Benjamin goes so far as to quote an entire song by the first great English opera composer, Henry Purcell, verbatim. No stranger to Purcell’s music, which has made its way into Benjamin’s theatrical productions as well, here Isabelle Lewis removes Purcell’s melodies and harmonies and sets the text, Katherine Phillips’s 17th century translation of a poem by Antoine Girard de Saint-Amant, to new music whose heightened, archaic character nevertheless seems haunted by Baroque ghosts.

Throughout the album, the outsized emotions and timeless archetypes of Benjamin’s lyrics feel like relics from some half-forgotten past—from the neatly rhymed couplets of “Fisherman,” a seemingly straightforward (but still somewhat askew) character study, to the abstraction of “Moonshell,” whose words seem like the fragments of some ancient, lost lament. It is just another of many ways in which Isabelle Lewis carefully distorts the listener’s notions of time. On a more micro level, time can stop for a moment of weightless, drifting ambience, and then plunge forward as the cloud of harmonies suddenly lock into tempo with the drop of the bass or the change of a chord. Or else that weightless moment is allowed to be, as in the aptly named prologue and epilogue to these Greetings (“Voicemail”/“…and farewell”), or in the interstitial tracks that bind the album together, connecting its dramatic peaks with expanses of meditative stasis.

The album as a whole is elegantly shaped, swelling from an intimate, interpersonal statement into something deeper and more spacious. The first half of the album leans slightly towards self-contained pop songcraft and ticking beats, while side B jumps off from “O Solitude” into the almost symphonic grandeur of songs like “Moonshell” or the instrumental “Not the water, air, or the dirt.”

But as it progresses, the contrasts only grow more sublime: antique and postmodern, human and machinelike. The ominous weight of the droning sub-bass and trombone (guest player Helgi Hrafn Jónsson) only makes the interplay between vocals and violins (guest player Daniel Pioro joining Elisabeth) seem more delicate and vulnerable. The ethereal string tremolos of “Moonshell” seem to pull against the heavy, shuddering electronics and layers of crooning vocals.

And that, in short, is where you will find Isabelle Lewis. Like an ancient stone archway, or a delicate house of cards, the architecture of Greetings is held together by the tension between opposing forces. Not just in Elisabeth’s playing, Benjamin’s singing, or Valgeir’s arrangements and production but in the conflict and contrast that generates the synergy between them.

Oh—Isabelle says hi, by the way. She’s looking forward to meeting you.

Expected late October/early November

Scott Gilmore’s Volume 01, an Analog Synth Gem, Makes Its Vinyl Debut - Pressed at 45RPM for maximum fidelity.

Recorded on a vintage Tascam 388, the LP version of Gilmore’s alluring, easy-going instrumental electronic record arrives in the physical world via In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi Records.

Los Angeles, CA — When the Los Angeles electronic musician and multi-instrumentalist Scott Gilmore recalls the creation of the songs on Volume 01, he describes specific moments of spontaneous inspiration. “I remember sitting at the tape deck, watching the leaves outside the window as they flittered in the sunlight—a moment of stillness that became intertwined with the melody I was recording,” Gilmore recalls, speaking of the track “Song For Cate.”

This sense of simplicity and presence is at the heart of Volume 01, which was recorded entirely on a Tascam 388 using a carefully curated selection of instruments.

Volume 01, an intimate, instinctual album that mixes lo-fi digital rhythms, strummed guitar, and melodic synth layers, is a collection of songs that captures Gilmore’s magnetic fluidity and the spontaneity of his process. Initially released digitally and as a limited edition cassette, Volume 01 is set to be issued on vinyl for the first time by In Sheep’s Clothing Hi-Fi.

The Tascam 388 is a classic mid-1980s analog machine that combines an 8-track reel-to-reel tape recorder with a built-in mixing console. Volume 01 exudes the kind of hazy, nostalgic warmth that only such recorders can provide. For the nine-song album, Gilmore harnessed analog synths including the Arp Odyssey, Yamaha CS-01, Korg DW-8000, Hohner Pianet T, Roland TR 606, and Roland SH 101, as well as bamboo alto saxophone, clarinet, electric guitar, and electric bass.

The album is awash in brief, propellant pieces. At just over four minutes, the relatively epic “Horizon Line” is driven by a three-note snare pattern, a two-note cymbal tap, with a humble bass-line serving as the rudder; Gilmore’s improvised keyboard runs move with an intuitive, conversational glee. The pensive "Shade" sounds like it could be a Penguin Cafe Orchestra demo. Closing track “D. Hareem” runs on a wobbly time signature but with an insistent, determined rhythm that belies genre descriptives. “I prefer to not know what I’m making as I compose,” Gilmore says. “It’s when I can’t clearly define what the music is that it’s then something that I want to put out into the world.”

In hindsight, Volume 01 was a portent. After its 2016 cassette release, Gilmore connected with International Feel, the Balearic imprint run by Marc Barrot, to release the sublime Subtle Vertigo. In 2019, Gilmore’s music caught the attention of Marc Hollander, the experimental composer and founding member of Aksak Maboul, which led to a signing with the Belgian label Crammed Discs. That deal enabled the creation of Gilmore’s solo album Two Roomed Motel and Doctor Fluorescent, a retro-futuristic, Vocoder-heavy 2020 collaboration with Eddie Ruscha V, a.k.a. Secret Circuit). Across these projects, Gilmore’s work has been mentioned in the same sentences as Stereolab, Arthur Russell, Woo, Air, R. Stevie Moore, and others, all of whom have combined synths and non-synths to memorable effect.

With the upcoming vinyl release, Volume 01 will set into wax an enduring set of works, offering listeners the chance to experience analog artistry in its most authentic, tangible form. In Sheep’s Clothing Records is honored to bring Gilmore’s work to vinyl.

Francesco Cavaliere and Tomoko Sauvage embody a tactile audio visual display, radiating the color green into sounds and painting meditative music. By transforming collected objects into invented instruments and scenography, each motif becomes a dedication to a specific situation, an anecdote or a symbol, sometimes real and other times absurd, that the artists have encountered through their travels and conversations: the Chinese myth about a man wearing a green hat, naming convention of Japanese traffic lights, or even the imaginary chants of frolicking twin dolphins. This inspired the duo’s personal research on experimenting with raw and synthesized idiophones, stage landscape design, spontaneous field recording and organized improvisation.

For their installation and performance, Cavaliere and Sauvage assemble a green cabinet of curiosities - instrumentarium combining water, glass, clay, bamboo xylophones, metallophones and synthesizers. Tomoko describes in an interview: “When you are actually surrounded by green musical instruments, it has a calming effect as if you were looking at a forest or mountain.” Surrounding themselves with amulets and fluorescent fluids, the duo transcend into a musical imagination that connects scores, choreography and sculpture. Motions like crisscrossing the stage, feeling the presence of a perfectly plump leaf as it strikes a glass bowl, minerals slipping through fingers, all resonate to the soothing sounds of splashing water. There’s an intuitive yet methodical nature to this conceptual approach to composition reminiscent of the fluxus art movement. The pair’s initial motif was to play Henning Christiansen’s Green Music, whose score turned to be nonexistent. By then, their green dream was already flourishing in their mind, retracing the path of so-called environmental music from Walter Tilgner, Knud Viktor, to the likes of Kankyo-Ongaku and Hiroshi Yoshimura.

Since there is a strong visual element to their work, witnessing this captivating site specific performance may be imperative in understanding the range and influence of the color green and the impact on the sounds they create together. On ‘Viridescens’, the first release by Cavaliere and Sauvage, we are invited to experience these recordings in a more musical context. Acting like an intermediary, the duo transport us to their special planet, enlivened by animal voices, wind, and aquatic creatures dancing across a luminous aurora.

Les Adventures de President Bongo is a unique work that will reveal itself over the next seven years, give or take, in the form of 24 LP's.
What is a groove It is something that goes on and on, not changing much seemingly, like the growth rings exposed when you cut and fell a tree. It is no coincidence that tree rings resemble the spiral track of a record: they're both grooves of a sort.

A groove is a routine, a life lived. It may not always seem like much - a cup of bitter coffee, another day spent under the flickering fluorescent lights of an office, an overly long queue at the check-out of a suffocating supermarket. But it is also the scent of slightly burnt meat and birch by a gently flowing stream under a pink sunset, a silver fog clearing without notice to expose a starry sky and its familiar twinkling constellations, an impenetrable smile on a crowded morning train. It is the pattern exposed on the tree stump. A proper groove has ups and downs, it has drama. A good groove is a good story, a transmission into the future.