Quebecois dreamweaver Racine returns to Danse Noire with a tormented suite of digital-organic simulations that insert placid ambience into industrial doomscapes, spliced together with eerie environmental recordings and delicate solo piano improvisations.
'Amitiés' means friendship, and Racine's new album is a pensive contemplation on connection, assembled during a time when isolation was mandated. To illustrate the theme, homespun sounds are set against digital processes: creaky piano is interrupted with decaying noise on the title track, and Racine's parents' harmonium is offset by electronic drones and clanking sound effects on 'Mon amour je ne guéris jamais'. On 'Les mains', breathy noise stutters surrounded by unidentifiable industrial scrapes, that coolly leads into the cinematic ambient grandeur of 'Arête coincée dans une amygdale'.
The album feels distinctly rooted to our post-COVID reality; it's a record that takes inspiration from recent experimental/electronic nodes - Oneohtrix Point Never, James Ferraro, Tim Hecker - but deploys its influences with a sense of knowing control and power. The resulting sound isn't so much a set of references, but an outpouring of emotion grounded in aesthetic tweaks and processes. It's a weighty catharsis, that feels as if its exorcising a full spectrum of ideas and feelings, converting them into jerky digital signals.
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Quebecois dreamweaver Racine returns to Danse Noire with a tormented suite of digital-organic simulations that insert placid ambience into industrial doomscapes, spliced together with eerie environmental recordings and delicate solo piano improvisations.
'Amitiés' means friendship, and Racine's new album is a pensive contemplation on connection, assembled during a time when isolation was mandated. To illustrate the theme, homespun sounds are set against digital processes: creaky piano is interrupted with decaying noise on the title track, and Racine's parents' harmonium is offset by electronic drones and clanking sound effects on 'Mon amour je ne guéris jamais'. On 'Les mains', breathy noise stutters surrounded by unidentifiable industrial scrapes, that coolly leads into the cinematic ambient grandeur of 'Arête coincée dans une amygdale'.
The album feels distinctly rooted to our post-COVID reality; it's a record that takes inspiration from recent experimental/electronic nodes - Oneohtrix Point Never, James Ferraro, Tim Hecker - but deploys its influences with a sense of knowing control and power. The resulting sound isn't so much a set of references, but an outpouring of emotion grounded in aesthetic tweaks and processes. It's a weighty catharsis, that feels as if its exorcising a full spectrum of ideas and feelings, converting them into jerky digital signals.
Quebecois dreamweaver Racine returns to Danse Noire with a tormented suite of digital-organic simulations that insert placid ambience into industrial doomscapes, spliced together with eerie environmental recordings and delicate solo piano improvisations.
'Amitiés' means friendship, and Racine's new album is a pensive contemplation on connection, assembled during a time when isolation was mandated. To illustrate the theme, homespun sounds are set against digital processes: creaky piano is interrupted with decaying noise on the title track, and Racine's parents' harmonium is offset by electronic drones and clanking sound effects on 'Mon amour je ne guéris jamais'. On 'Les mains', breathy noise stutters surrounded by unidentifiable industrial scrapes, that coolly leads into the cinematic ambient grandeur of 'Arête coincée dans une amygdale'.
The album feels distinctly rooted to our post-COVID reality; it's a record that takes inspiration from recent experimental/electronic nodes - Oneohtrix Point Never, James Ferraro, Tim Hecker - but deploys its influences with a sense of knowing control and power. The resulting sound isn't so much a set of references, but an outpouring of emotion grounded in aesthetic tweaks and processes. It's a weighty catharsis, that feels as if its exorcising a full spectrum of ideas and feelings, converting them into jerky digital signals.
Quebecois dreamweaver Racine returns to Danse Noire with a tormented suite of digital-organic simulations that insert placid ambience into industrial doomscapes, spliced together with eerie environmental recordings and delicate solo piano improvisations.
'Amitiés' means friendship, and Racine's new album is a pensive contemplation on connection, assembled during a time when isolation was mandated. To illustrate the theme, homespun sounds are set against digital processes: creaky piano is interrupted with decaying noise on the title track, and Racine's parents' harmonium is offset by electronic drones and clanking sound effects on 'Mon amour je ne guéris jamais'. On 'Les mains', breathy noise stutters surrounded by unidentifiable industrial scrapes, that coolly leads into the cinematic ambient grandeur of 'Arête coincée dans une amygdale'.
The album feels distinctly rooted to our post-COVID reality; it's a record that takes inspiration from recent experimental/electronic nodes - Oneohtrix Point Never, James Ferraro, Tim Hecker - but deploys its influences with a sense of knowing control and power. The resulting sound isn't so much a set of references, but an outpouring of emotion grounded in aesthetic tweaks and processes. It's a weighty catharsis, that feels as if its exorcising a full spectrum of ideas and feelings, converting them into jerky digital signals.
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Quebecois dreamweaver Racine returns to Danse Noire with a tormented suite of digital-organic simulations that insert placid ambience into industrial doomscapes, spliced together with eerie environmental recordings and delicate solo piano improvisations.
'Amitiés' means friendship, and Racine's new album is a pensive contemplation on connection, assembled during a time when isolation was mandated. To illustrate the theme, homespun sounds are set against digital processes: creaky piano is interrupted with decaying noise on the title track, and Racine's parents' harmonium is offset by electronic drones and clanking sound effects on 'Mon amour je ne guéris jamais'. On 'Les mains', breathy noise stutters surrounded by unidentifiable industrial scrapes, that coolly leads into the cinematic ambient grandeur of 'Arête coincée dans une amygdale'.
The album feels distinctly rooted to our post-COVID reality; it's a record that takes inspiration from recent experimental/electronic nodes - Oneohtrix Point Never, James Ferraro, Tim Hecker - but deploys its influences with a sense of knowing control and power. The resulting sound isn't so much a set of references, but an outpouring of emotion grounded in aesthetic tweaks and processes. It's a weighty catharsis, that feels as if its exorcising a full spectrum of ideas and feelings, converting them into jerky digital signals.