Shapeshifting UK artist Louis Carnell - formerly Visionist - consolidates his ambitious, year-long series of collaborations with everyone from Lee Ranaldo to Okkyung Lee, Daniel Miller to and Leila, in its ultimate album form - a patently unfolding LP spanning doomy torchsong to minimalist classical and uncanny valley noise.
Over the preceding 12 months to summer ’24, Carnell has persistently surprised with the range and emerging scope of ‘111’, a project that, from the outset, promised to create “an environment for the listener to explore the series without hierarchy, questioning how and with whom we collaborate, and where we can find commonality & community.” The collected results speak to his personal evolution over the decade and more since he emerged in the post-dubstep milieu at the edge of the club, which he has now cleanly departed for galleries and multimedia performance after 2021’s ‘A Call to Arms’ put Visionist to bed.
An impressive spectrum of collaborators have aided in Carnell finding himself more fully on ‘111’, as he indulges a naturally introspective bent, best suited to his conceptual themes, interrogating social structure and hierarchy, and inherent connotations of masculinity and race, to the fore, as he explains: “As the engine of modern life funnels us into states of loss and isolation, 111 aims at a utopian poetics of hope. Re-aligning connections by exploring mutual spaces 111 attempts to empower its listener & forms an equivalent environment for each collaboration. Each artist that features on 111 has provided me with multiple moments of resilience & comfort when in times of solitude & I’m thankful to them all.”
The overarching feel of ‘111’ keens to the elegiac and melancholy, sometimes overbearingly, at others more poignant. We point to the album’s standout examples in ‘thirteen’, where his greyscale electronics resemble Actress’, and the haunting melody of Leila Arab, or the chest-swelling optimism that bleeds thru in his Laraaji link-up ‘eleven’, and in Ben Vince’s ribboning sax lines lent to ‘three’. But when he goes dark and heavy, he means it, especially in the knotted modular grot and sinewy ‘ten’ with Mute boss Daniel Miller, or the horror score tension of Okkyung Lee’s strings on ‘seven’, or no doubt Keeley Forsyth’s channelling of Scott Walker.
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Shapeshifting UK artist Louis Carnell - formerly Visionist - consolidates his ambitious, year-long series of collaborations with everyone from Lee Ranaldo to Okkyung Lee, Daniel Miller to and Leila, in its ultimate album form - a patently unfolding LP spanning doomy torchsong to minimalist classical and uncanny valley noise.
Over the preceding 12 months to summer ’24, Carnell has persistently surprised with the range and emerging scope of ‘111’, a project that, from the outset, promised to create “an environment for the listener to explore the series without hierarchy, questioning how and with whom we collaborate, and where we can find commonality & community.” The collected results speak to his personal evolution over the decade and more since he emerged in the post-dubstep milieu at the edge of the club, which he has now cleanly departed for galleries and multimedia performance after 2021’s ‘A Call to Arms’ put Visionist to bed.
An impressive spectrum of collaborators have aided in Carnell finding himself more fully on ‘111’, as he indulges a naturally introspective bent, best suited to his conceptual themes, interrogating social structure and hierarchy, and inherent connotations of masculinity and race, to the fore, as he explains: “As the engine of modern life funnels us into states of loss and isolation, 111 aims at a utopian poetics of hope. Re-aligning connections by exploring mutual spaces 111 attempts to empower its listener & forms an equivalent environment for each collaboration. Each artist that features on 111 has provided me with multiple moments of resilience & comfort when in times of solitude & I’m thankful to them all.”
The overarching feel of ‘111’ keens to the elegiac and melancholy, sometimes overbearingly, at others more poignant. We point to the album’s standout examples in ‘thirteen’, where his greyscale electronics resemble Actress’, and the haunting melody of Leila Arab, or the chest-swelling optimism that bleeds thru in his Laraaji link-up ‘eleven’, and in Ben Vince’s ribboning sax lines lent to ‘three’. But when he goes dark and heavy, he means it, especially in the knotted modular grot and sinewy ‘ten’ with Mute boss Daniel Miller, or the horror score tension of Okkyung Lee’s strings on ‘seven’, or no doubt Keeley Forsyth’s channelling of Scott Walker.
Shapeshifting UK artist Louis Carnell - formerly Visionist - consolidates his ambitious, year-long series of collaborations with everyone from Lee Ranaldo to Okkyung Lee, Daniel Miller to and Leila, in its ultimate album form - a patently unfolding LP spanning doomy torchsong to minimalist classical and uncanny valley noise.
Over the preceding 12 months to summer ’24, Carnell has persistently surprised with the range and emerging scope of ‘111’, a project that, from the outset, promised to create “an environment for the listener to explore the series without hierarchy, questioning how and with whom we collaborate, and where we can find commonality & community.” The collected results speak to his personal evolution over the decade and more since he emerged in the post-dubstep milieu at the edge of the club, which he has now cleanly departed for galleries and multimedia performance after 2021’s ‘A Call to Arms’ put Visionist to bed.
An impressive spectrum of collaborators have aided in Carnell finding himself more fully on ‘111’, as he indulges a naturally introspective bent, best suited to his conceptual themes, interrogating social structure and hierarchy, and inherent connotations of masculinity and race, to the fore, as he explains: “As the engine of modern life funnels us into states of loss and isolation, 111 aims at a utopian poetics of hope. Re-aligning connections by exploring mutual spaces 111 attempts to empower its listener & forms an equivalent environment for each collaboration. Each artist that features on 111 has provided me with multiple moments of resilience & comfort when in times of solitude & I’m thankful to them all.”
The overarching feel of ‘111’ keens to the elegiac and melancholy, sometimes overbearingly, at others more poignant. We point to the album’s standout examples in ‘thirteen’, where his greyscale electronics resemble Actress’, and the haunting melody of Leila Arab, or the chest-swelling optimism that bleeds thru in his Laraaji link-up ‘eleven’, and in Ben Vince’s ribboning sax lines lent to ‘three’. But when he goes dark and heavy, he means it, especially in the knotted modular grot and sinewy ‘ten’ with Mute boss Daniel Miller, or the horror score tension of Okkyung Lee’s strings on ‘seven’, or no doubt Keeley Forsyth’s channelling of Scott Walker.
Shapeshifting UK artist Louis Carnell - formerly Visionist - consolidates his ambitious, year-long series of collaborations with everyone from Lee Ranaldo to Okkyung Lee, Daniel Miller to and Leila, in its ultimate album form - a patently unfolding LP spanning doomy torchsong to minimalist classical and uncanny valley noise.
Over the preceding 12 months to summer ’24, Carnell has persistently surprised with the range and emerging scope of ‘111’, a project that, from the outset, promised to create “an environment for the listener to explore the series without hierarchy, questioning how and with whom we collaborate, and where we can find commonality & community.” The collected results speak to his personal evolution over the decade and more since he emerged in the post-dubstep milieu at the edge of the club, which he has now cleanly departed for galleries and multimedia performance after 2021’s ‘A Call to Arms’ put Visionist to bed.
An impressive spectrum of collaborators have aided in Carnell finding himself more fully on ‘111’, as he indulges a naturally introspective bent, best suited to his conceptual themes, interrogating social structure and hierarchy, and inherent connotations of masculinity and race, to the fore, as he explains: “As the engine of modern life funnels us into states of loss and isolation, 111 aims at a utopian poetics of hope. Re-aligning connections by exploring mutual spaces 111 attempts to empower its listener & forms an equivalent environment for each collaboration. Each artist that features on 111 has provided me with multiple moments of resilience & comfort when in times of solitude & I’m thankful to them all.”
The overarching feel of ‘111’ keens to the elegiac and melancholy, sometimes overbearingly, at others more poignant. We point to the album’s standout examples in ‘thirteen’, where his greyscale electronics resemble Actress’, and the haunting melody of Leila Arab, or the chest-swelling optimism that bleeds thru in his Laraaji link-up ‘eleven’, and in Ben Vince’s ribboning sax lines lent to ‘three’. But when he goes dark and heavy, he means it, especially in the knotted modular grot and sinewy ‘ten’ with Mute boss Daniel Miller, or the horror score tension of Okkyung Lee’s strings on ‘seven’, or no doubt Keeley Forsyth’s channelling of Scott Walker.
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Shapeshifting UK artist Louis Carnell - formerly Visionist - consolidates his ambitious, year-long series of collaborations with everyone from Lee Ranaldo to Okkyung Lee, Daniel Miller to and Leila, in its ultimate album form - a patently unfolding LP spanning doomy torchsong to minimalist classical and uncanny valley noise.
Over the preceding 12 months to summer ’24, Carnell has persistently surprised with the range and emerging scope of ‘111’, a project that, from the outset, promised to create “an environment for the listener to explore the series without hierarchy, questioning how and with whom we collaborate, and where we can find commonality & community.” The collected results speak to his personal evolution over the decade and more since he emerged in the post-dubstep milieu at the edge of the club, which he has now cleanly departed for galleries and multimedia performance after 2021’s ‘A Call to Arms’ put Visionist to bed.
An impressive spectrum of collaborators have aided in Carnell finding himself more fully on ‘111’, as he indulges a naturally introspective bent, best suited to his conceptual themes, interrogating social structure and hierarchy, and inherent connotations of masculinity and race, to the fore, as he explains: “As the engine of modern life funnels us into states of loss and isolation, 111 aims at a utopian poetics of hope. Re-aligning connections by exploring mutual spaces 111 attempts to empower its listener & forms an equivalent environment for each collaboration. Each artist that features on 111 has provided me with multiple moments of resilience & comfort when in times of solitude & I’m thankful to them all.”
The overarching feel of ‘111’ keens to the elegiac and melancholy, sometimes overbearingly, at others more poignant. We point to the album’s standout examples in ‘thirteen’, where his greyscale electronics resemble Actress’, and the haunting melody of Leila Arab, or the chest-swelling optimism that bleeds thru in his Laraaji link-up ‘eleven’, and in Ben Vince’s ribboning sax lines lent to ‘three’. But when he goes dark and heavy, he means it, especially in the knotted modular grot and sinewy ‘ten’ with Mute boss Daniel Miller, or the horror score tension of Okkyung Lee’s strings on ‘seven’, or no doubt Keeley Forsyth’s channelling of Scott Walker.