Jules Reidy's poppiest offering yet, 'Ghost/Spirit' fragments a set of tonally thorny songs that veer off track with glitchy sampled rhythms, field recordings and feverish GRM-level processes - think of it as a sequel to 2022's brilliant 'World In World'. RIYL Richard Youngs, Loraine James, Oren Ambarchi, Julia Holter or Wendy Eisenberg.
Reidy's been hard to pin down over the last couple of years, exploring transcendent ritual forms on 2023's Shelter Press-released 'Trances', bottling the euphoria of long Berlin nights on last year's 'Rave Angels' and attacking wyrd prog on their collaboration with Andrea Belfi, 'Dessus Oben Alto Up', that appeared only a few months ago. What we didn't hear was material that pierced the pop bubble, the kind of skewed hypnagogic songs that Reidy proposed on 'In Real Life' and 'World In World' - no doubt because they were saving them for their high-profile Thrill Jockey debut. Here, Reidy strikes a balance between droned-out esoterica and meticulous songcraft, augmenting their emotionally-charged xenharmonic dream pop miniatures with clattering rhythms and environmental gasps that establish them firmly in the heart of Berlin. The core ingredients are roughly the same, with Reidy's microtonal guitar plucks, Autotuned vocals and gooey modular experiments taking up most of the space, but now their sound has been fleshed out with powdery stuttered samples and evocative sonic snapshots of the S-Bahn's screeching ambience.
Coming off like a lushly orchestrated chamber pop reconfiguration of Loraine James' neo-IDM experiments, 'Every Day There's a Sunset' is a direct line into the album's themes. "I give all to you, 'til I disappear," they sing over chiming harmonics. "There is no one there for you to give on back to, 'til you disappear." The words form a cycle, lapping into themselves while Reidy increases the pressure, adding bell and gong sounds that set the stage for the barrage of bitcrushed percussion that follows. And as we've heard previously, Reidy's control of xenharmonic tunings is remarkable, obfuscating the pop logic and creating an addicting level of discomfort. It's a trick Reidy plays with, leading us on with familiarity and then pulling the rug from under us - before we know it, we're listening to bizarre sequences of notes formed into a peculiar earworm. The track's backbone comes from Reidy's Sun Kit bandmate Andreas Dzialocha who provides seismic bass tones, and on Satellite, Berlin-based Aussie cellist Judith Hamann shows up to play elasticated wails against Reidy's anomolous barrage of beats, 12-string twangs and levitational voices.
Reidy gets mileage from their guitar simply by approaching it without accepting how we expect it to sound. On 'Ghost', the speedy arpeggios are somewhere between Steve Reich and Tangerine Dream, and it's piped through various effects on 'Maybe', transformed into an alien gurgle. This isn't always the case - there's a refreshing cleanness to the Americana-tinted 'Search Light - and Reidy's consistent versatility keeps us interested from track to track. And just to emphasize the percussive focus of 'Ghost/Spirit', Berlin drummer Sara Neidorf - of post-jazz-doom duo Mellowdeath - supplies the ammunition on 'Every Day There's a Sunrise', which Reidy chops into distorted, ear-pummeling sputters, countering the chaos with hovering vocals and kosmische synths.
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Jules Reidy's poppiest offering yet, 'Ghost/Spirit' fragments a set of tonally thorny songs that veer off track with glitchy sampled rhythms, field recordings and feverish GRM-level processes - think of it as a sequel to 2022's brilliant 'World In World'. RIYL Richard Youngs, Loraine James, Oren Ambarchi, Julia Holter or Wendy Eisenberg.
Reidy's been hard to pin down over the last couple of years, exploring transcendent ritual forms on 2023's Shelter Press-released 'Trances', bottling the euphoria of long Berlin nights on last year's 'Rave Angels' and attacking wyrd prog on their collaboration with Andrea Belfi, 'Dessus Oben Alto Up', that appeared only a few months ago. What we didn't hear was material that pierced the pop bubble, the kind of skewed hypnagogic songs that Reidy proposed on 'In Real Life' and 'World In World' - no doubt because they were saving them for their high-profile Thrill Jockey debut. Here, Reidy strikes a balance between droned-out esoterica and meticulous songcraft, augmenting their emotionally-charged xenharmonic dream pop miniatures with clattering rhythms and environmental gasps that establish them firmly in the heart of Berlin. The core ingredients are roughly the same, with Reidy's microtonal guitar plucks, Autotuned vocals and gooey modular experiments taking up most of the space, but now their sound has been fleshed out with powdery stuttered samples and evocative sonic snapshots of the S-Bahn's screeching ambience.
Coming off like a lushly orchestrated chamber pop reconfiguration of Loraine James' neo-IDM experiments, 'Every Day There's a Sunset' is a direct line into the album's themes. "I give all to you, 'til I disappear," they sing over chiming harmonics. "There is no one there for you to give on back to, 'til you disappear." The words form a cycle, lapping into themselves while Reidy increases the pressure, adding bell and gong sounds that set the stage for the barrage of bitcrushed percussion that follows. And as we've heard previously, Reidy's control of xenharmonic tunings is remarkable, obfuscating the pop logic and creating an addicting level of discomfort. It's a trick Reidy plays with, leading us on with familiarity and then pulling the rug from under us - before we know it, we're listening to bizarre sequences of notes formed into a peculiar earworm. The track's backbone comes from Reidy's Sun Kit bandmate Andreas Dzialocha who provides seismic bass tones, and on Satellite, Berlin-based Aussie cellist Judith Hamann shows up to play elasticated wails against Reidy's anomolous barrage of beats, 12-string twangs and levitational voices.
Reidy gets mileage from their guitar simply by approaching it without accepting how we expect it to sound. On 'Ghost', the speedy arpeggios are somewhere between Steve Reich and Tangerine Dream, and it's piped through various effects on 'Maybe', transformed into an alien gurgle. This isn't always the case - there's a refreshing cleanness to the Americana-tinted 'Search Light - and Reidy's consistent versatility keeps us interested from track to track. And just to emphasize the percussive focus of 'Ghost/Spirit', Berlin drummer Sara Neidorf - of post-jazz-doom duo Mellowdeath - supplies the ammunition on 'Every Day There's a Sunrise', which Reidy chops into distorted, ear-pummeling sputters, countering the chaos with hovering vocals and kosmische synths.
Jules Reidy's poppiest offering yet, 'Ghost/Spirit' fragments a set of tonally thorny songs that veer off track with glitchy sampled rhythms, field recordings and feverish GRM-level processes - think of it as a sequel to 2022's brilliant 'World In World'. RIYL Richard Youngs, Loraine James, Oren Ambarchi, Julia Holter or Wendy Eisenberg.
Reidy's been hard to pin down over the last couple of years, exploring transcendent ritual forms on 2023's Shelter Press-released 'Trances', bottling the euphoria of long Berlin nights on last year's 'Rave Angels' and attacking wyrd prog on their collaboration with Andrea Belfi, 'Dessus Oben Alto Up', that appeared only a few months ago. What we didn't hear was material that pierced the pop bubble, the kind of skewed hypnagogic songs that Reidy proposed on 'In Real Life' and 'World In World' - no doubt because they were saving them for their high-profile Thrill Jockey debut. Here, Reidy strikes a balance between droned-out esoterica and meticulous songcraft, augmenting their emotionally-charged xenharmonic dream pop miniatures with clattering rhythms and environmental gasps that establish them firmly in the heart of Berlin. The core ingredients are roughly the same, with Reidy's microtonal guitar plucks, Autotuned vocals and gooey modular experiments taking up most of the space, but now their sound has been fleshed out with powdery stuttered samples and evocative sonic snapshots of the S-Bahn's screeching ambience.
Coming off like a lushly orchestrated chamber pop reconfiguration of Loraine James' neo-IDM experiments, 'Every Day There's a Sunset' is a direct line into the album's themes. "I give all to you, 'til I disappear," they sing over chiming harmonics. "There is no one there for you to give on back to, 'til you disappear." The words form a cycle, lapping into themselves while Reidy increases the pressure, adding bell and gong sounds that set the stage for the barrage of bitcrushed percussion that follows. And as we've heard previously, Reidy's control of xenharmonic tunings is remarkable, obfuscating the pop logic and creating an addicting level of discomfort. It's a trick Reidy plays with, leading us on with familiarity and then pulling the rug from under us - before we know it, we're listening to bizarre sequences of notes formed into a peculiar earworm. The track's backbone comes from Reidy's Sun Kit bandmate Andreas Dzialocha who provides seismic bass tones, and on Satellite, Berlin-based Aussie cellist Judith Hamann shows up to play elasticated wails against Reidy's anomolous barrage of beats, 12-string twangs and levitational voices.
Reidy gets mileage from their guitar simply by approaching it without accepting how we expect it to sound. On 'Ghost', the speedy arpeggios are somewhere between Steve Reich and Tangerine Dream, and it's piped through various effects on 'Maybe', transformed into an alien gurgle. This isn't always the case - there's a refreshing cleanness to the Americana-tinted 'Search Light - and Reidy's consistent versatility keeps us interested from track to track. And just to emphasize the percussive focus of 'Ghost/Spirit', Berlin drummer Sara Neidorf - of post-jazz-doom duo Mellowdeath - supplies the ammunition on 'Every Day There's a Sunrise', which Reidy chops into distorted, ear-pummeling sputters, countering the chaos with hovering vocals and kosmische synths.
Jules Reidy's poppiest offering yet, 'Ghost/Spirit' fragments a set of tonally thorny songs that veer off track with glitchy sampled rhythms, field recordings and feverish GRM-level processes - think of it as a sequel to 2022's brilliant 'World In World'. RIYL Richard Youngs, Loraine James, Oren Ambarchi, Julia Holter or Wendy Eisenberg.
Reidy's been hard to pin down over the last couple of years, exploring transcendent ritual forms on 2023's Shelter Press-released 'Trances', bottling the euphoria of long Berlin nights on last year's 'Rave Angels' and attacking wyrd prog on their collaboration with Andrea Belfi, 'Dessus Oben Alto Up', that appeared only a few months ago. What we didn't hear was material that pierced the pop bubble, the kind of skewed hypnagogic songs that Reidy proposed on 'In Real Life' and 'World In World' - no doubt because they were saving them for their high-profile Thrill Jockey debut. Here, Reidy strikes a balance between droned-out esoterica and meticulous songcraft, augmenting their emotionally-charged xenharmonic dream pop miniatures with clattering rhythms and environmental gasps that establish them firmly in the heart of Berlin. The core ingredients are roughly the same, with Reidy's microtonal guitar plucks, Autotuned vocals and gooey modular experiments taking up most of the space, but now their sound has been fleshed out with powdery stuttered samples and evocative sonic snapshots of the S-Bahn's screeching ambience.
Coming off like a lushly orchestrated chamber pop reconfiguration of Loraine James' neo-IDM experiments, 'Every Day There's a Sunset' is a direct line into the album's themes. "I give all to you, 'til I disappear," they sing over chiming harmonics. "There is no one there for you to give on back to, 'til you disappear." The words form a cycle, lapping into themselves while Reidy increases the pressure, adding bell and gong sounds that set the stage for the barrage of bitcrushed percussion that follows. And as we've heard previously, Reidy's control of xenharmonic tunings is remarkable, obfuscating the pop logic and creating an addicting level of discomfort. It's a trick Reidy plays with, leading us on with familiarity and then pulling the rug from under us - before we know it, we're listening to bizarre sequences of notes formed into a peculiar earworm. The track's backbone comes from Reidy's Sun Kit bandmate Andreas Dzialocha who provides seismic bass tones, and on Satellite, Berlin-based Aussie cellist Judith Hamann shows up to play elasticated wails against Reidy's anomolous barrage of beats, 12-string twangs and levitational voices.
Reidy gets mileage from their guitar simply by approaching it without accepting how we expect it to sound. On 'Ghost', the speedy arpeggios are somewhere between Steve Reich and Tangerine Dream, and it's piped through various effects on 'Maybe', transformed into an alien gurgle. This isn't always the case - there's a refreshing cleanness to the Americana-tinted 'Search Light - and Reidy's consistent versatility keeps us interested from track to track. And just to emphasize the percussive focus of 'Ghost/Spirit', Berlin drummer Sara Neidorf - of post-jazz-doom duo Mellowdeath - supplies the ammunition on 'Every Day There's a Sunrise', which Reidy chops into distorted, ear-pummeling sputters, countering the chaos with hovering vocals and kosmische synths.
Estimated Release Date: 21 February 2025
Please note that shipping dates for pre-orders are estimated and are subject to change
Jules Reidy's poppiest offering yet, 'Ghost/Spirit' fragments a set of tonally thorny songs that veer off track with glitchy sampled rhythms, field recordings and feverish GRM-level processes - think of it as a sequel to 2022's brilliant 'World In World'. RIYL Richard Youngs, Loraine James, Oren Ambarchi, Julia Holter or Wendy Eisenberg.
Reidy's been hard to pin down over the last couple of years, exploring transcendent ritual forms on 2023's Shelter Press-released 'Trances', bottling the euphoria of long Berlin nights on last year's 'Rave Angels' and attacking wyrd prog on their collaboration with Andrea Belfi, 'Dessus Oben Alto Up', that appeared only a few months ago. What we didn't hear was material that pierced the pop bubble, the kind of skewed hypnagogic songs that Reidy proposed on 'In Real Life' and 'World In World' - no doubt because they were saving them for their high-profile Thrill Jockey debut. Here, Reidy strikes a balance between droned-out esoterica and meticulous songcraft, augmenting their emotionally-charged xenharmonic dream pop miniatures with clattering rhythms and environmental gasps that establish them firmly in the heart of Berlin. The core ingredients are roughly the same, with Reidy's microtonal guitar plucks, Autotuned vocals and gooey modular experiments taking up most of the space, but now their sound has been fleshed out with powdery stuttered samples and evocative sonic snapshots of the S-Bahn's screeching ambience.
Coming off like a lushly orchestrated chamber pop reconfiguration of Loraine James' neo-IDM experiments, 'Every Day There's a Sunset' is a direct line into the album's themes. "I give all to you, 'til I disappear," they sing over chiming harmonics. "There is no one there for you to give on back to, 'til you disappear." The words form a cycle, lapping into themselves while Reidy increases the pressure, adding bell and gong sounds that set the stage for the barrage of bitcrushed percussion that follows. And as we've heard previously, Reidy's control of xenharmonic tunings is remarkable, obfuscating the pop logic and creating an addicting level of discomfort. It's a trick Reidy plays with, leading us on with familiarity and then pulling the rug from under us - before we know it, we're listening to bizarre sequences of notes formed into a peculiar earworm. The track's backbone comes from Reidy's Sun Kit bandmate Andreas Dzialocha who provides seismic bass tones, and on Satellite, Berlin-based Aussie cellist Judith Hamann shows up to play elasticated wails against Reidy's anomolous barrage of beats, 12-string twangs and levitational voices.
Reidy gets mileage from their guitar simply by approaching it without accepting how we expect it to sound. On 'Ghost', the speedy arpeggios are somewhere between Steve Reich and Tangerine Dream, and it's piped through various effects on 'Maybe', transformed into an alien gurgle. This isn't always the case - there's a refreshing cleanness to the Americana-tinted 'Search Light - and Reidy's consistent versatility keeps us interested from track to track. And just to emphasize the percussive focus of 'Ghost/Spirit', Berlin drummer Sara Neidorf - of post-jazz-doom duo Mellowdeath - supplies the ammunition on 'Every Day There's a Sunrise', which Reidy chops into distorted, ear-pummeling sputters, countering the chaos with hovering vocals and kosmische synths.
Translucent red vinyl
Estimated Release Date: 21 February 2025
Please note that shipping dates for pre-orders are estimated and are subject to change
Jules Reidy's poppiest offering yet, 'Ghost/Spirit' fragments a set of tonally thorny songs that veer off track with glitchy sampled rhythms, field recordings and feverish GRM-level processes - think of it as a sequel to 2022's brilliant 'World In World'. RIYL Richard Youngs, Loraine James, Oren Ambarchi, Julia Holter or Wendy Eisenberg.
Reidy's been hard to pin down over the last couple of years, exploring transcendent ritual forms on 2023's Shelter Press-released 'Trances', bottling the euphoria of long Berlin nights on last year's 'Rave Angels' and attacking wyrd prog on their collaboration with Andrea Belfi, 'Dessus Oben Alto Up', that appeared only a few months ago. What we didn't hear was material that pierced the pop bubble, the kind of skewed hypnagogic songs that Reidy proposed on 'In Real Life' and 'World In World' - no doubt because they were saving them for their high-profile Thrill Jockey debut. Here, Reidy strikes a balance between droned-out esoterica and meticulous songcraft, augmenting their emotionally-charged xenharmonic dream pop miniatures with clattering rhythms and environmental gasps that establish them firmly in the heart of Berlin. The core ingredients are roughly the same, with Reidy's microtonal guitar plucks, Autotuned vocals and gooey modular experiments taking up most of the space, but now their sound has been fleshed out with powdery stuttered samples and evocative sonic snapshots of the S-Bahn's screeching ambience.
Coming off like a lushly orchestrated chamber pop reconfiguration of Loraine James' neo-IDM experiments, 'Every Day There's a Sunset' is a direct line into the album's themes. "I give all to you, 'til I disappear," they sing over chiming harmonics. "There is no one there for you to give on back to, 'til you disappear." The words form a cycle, lapping into themselves while Reidy increases the pressure, adding bell and gong sounds that set the stage for the barrage of bitcrushed percussion that follows. And as we've heard previously, Reidy's control of xenharmonic tunings is remarkable, obfuscating the pop logic and creating an addicting level of discomfort. It's a trick Reidy plays with, leading us on with familiarity and then pulling the rug from under us - before we know it, we're listening to bizarre sequences of notes formed into a peculiar earworm. The track's backbone comes from Reidy's Sun Kit bandmate Andreas Dzialocha who provides seismic bass tones, and on Satellite, Berlin-based Aussie cellist Judith Hamann shows up to play elasticated wails against Reidy's anomolous barrage of beats, 12-string twangs and levitational voices.
Reidy gets mileage from their guitar simply by approaching it without accepting how we expect it to sound. On 'Ghost', the speedy arpeggios are somewhere between Steve Reich and Tangerine Dream, and it's piped through various effects on 'Maybe', transformed into an alien gurgle. This isn't always the case - there's a refreshing cleanness to the Americana-tinted 'Search Light - and Reidy's consistent versatility keeps us interested from track to track. And just to emphasize the percussive focus of 'Ghost/Spirit', Berlin drummer Sara Neidorf - of post-jazz-doom duo Mellowdeath - supplies the ammunition on 'Every Day There's a Sunrise', which Reidy chops into distorted, ear-pummeling sputters, countering the chaos with hovering vocals and kosmische synths.
Estimated Release Date: 21 February 2025
Please note that shipping dates for pre-orders are estimated and are subject to change
Jules Reidy's poppiest offering yet, 'Ghost/Spirit' fragments a set of tonally thorny songs that veer off track with glitchy sampled rhythms, field recordings and feverish GRM-level processes - think of it as a sequel to 2022's brilliant 'World In World'. RIYL Richard Youngs, Loraine James, Oren Ambarchi, Julia Holter or Wendy Eisenberg.
Reidy's been hard to pin down over the last couple of years, exploring transcendent ritual forms on 2023's Shelter Press-released 'Trances', bottling the euphoria of long Berlin nights on last year's 'Rave Angels' and attacking wyrd prog on their collaboration with Andrea Belfi, 'Dessus Oben Alto Up', that appeared only a few months ago. What we didn't hear was material that pierced the pop bubble, the kind of skewed hypnagogic songs that Reidy proposed on 'In Real Life' and 'World In World' - no doubt because they were saving them for their high-profile Thrill Jockey debut. Here, Reidy strikes a balance between droned-out esoterica and meticulous songcraft, augmenting their emotionally-charged xenharmonic dream pop miniatures with clattering rhythms and environmental gasps that establish them firmly in the heart of Berlin. The core ingredients are roughly the same, with Reidy's microtonal guitar plucks, Autotuned vocals and gooey modular experiments taking up most of the space, but now their sound has been fleshed out with powdery stuttered samples and evocative sonic snapshots of the S-Bahn's screeching ambience.
Coming off like a lushly orchestrated chamber pop reconfiguration of Loraine James' neo-IDM experiments, 'Every Day There's a Sunset' is a direct line into the album's themes. "I give all to you, 'til I disappear," they sing over chiming harmonics. "There is no one there for you to give on back to, 'til you disappear." The words form a cycle, lapping into themselves while Reidy increases the pressure, adding bell and gong sounds that set the stage for the barrage of bitcrushed percussion that follows. And as we've heard previously, Reidy's control of xenharmonic tunings is remarkable, obfuscating the pop logic and creating an addicting level of discomfort. It's a trick Reidy plays with, leading us on with familiarity and then pulling the rug from under us - before we know it, we're listening to bizarre sequences of notes formed into a peculiar earworm. The track's backbone comes from Reidy's Sun Kit bandmate Andreas Dzialocha who provides seismic bass tones, and on Satellite, Berlin-based Aussie cellist Judith Hamann shows up to play elasticated wails against Reidy's anomolous barrage of beats, 12-string twangs and levitational voices.
Reidy gets mileage from their guitar simply by approaching it without accepting how we expect it to sound. On 'Ghost', the speedy arpeggios are somewhere between Steve Reich and Tangerine Dream, and it's piped through various effects on 'Maybe', transformed into an alien gurgle. This isn't always the case - there's a refreshing cleanness to the Americana-tinted 'Search Light - and Reidy's consistent versatility keeps us interested from track to track. And just to emphasize the percussive focus of 'Ghost/Spirit', Berlin drummer Sara Neidorf - of post-jazz-doom duo Mellowdeath - supplies the ammunition on 'Every Day There's a Sunrise', which Reidy chops into distorted, ear-pummeling sputters, countering the chaos with hovering vocals and kosmische synths.