Laurel Halo follows last year’s ‘Atlas’ stunner with an excellent contribution to the Portraits GRM series, taking a quietly orchestral 21 minute nite flyte on one side.
On last year's Boomkat EOY chart-topping 'Atlas', Laurel Halo was inspired by Italo Calvino's 1972 novel 'Invisible Cities'. 'Octavia' lays out some of those themes - specifically the idea of a "spiderweb city" - using delicate piano motifs and swooping, chimerical strings. It's an unashamedly romantic composition, but riddled with a darkness that creeps around the edges. Gorgeous, smoky cinematics are buoyed by booming, noxious rumbles, and Halo's finely tweaked electronic processes propel the piece from a tangible real world of inscrutable cityscapes to an unknowable sci-fi sprawl way above. Indeed, the piece's title is a reference to Calvino's floating city that's perched over a vast abyss, balanced on a precarious net. It's hard not to see it as a reference to our own perilous reality, and as worldly themes poke through the lace - diminutive snippets of smoked-out jazz and romantic baroque music - they're unavoidably swallowed by the dense atmosphere, like being lost in a dream.
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Laurel Halo follows last year’s ‘Atlas’ stunner with an excellent contribution to the Portraits GRM series, taking a quietly orchestral 21 minute nite flyte on one side.
On last year's Boomkat EOY chart-topping 'Atlas', Laurel Halo was inspired by Italo Calvino's 1972 novel 'Invisible Cities'. 'Octavia' lays out some of those themes - specifically the idea of a "spiderweb city" - using delicate piano motifs and swooping, chimerical strings. It's an unashamedly romantic composition, but riddled with a darkness that creeps around the edges. Gorgeous, smoky cinematics are buoyed by booming, noxious rumbles, and Halo's finely tweaked electronic processes propel the piece from a tangible real world of inscrutable cityscapes to an unknowable sci-fi sprawl way above. Indeed, the piece's title is a reference to Calvino's floating city that's perched over a vast abyss, balanced on a precarious net. It's hard not to see it as a reference to our own perilous reality, and as worldly themes poke through the lace - diminutive snippets of smoked-out jazz and romantic baroque music - they're unavoidably swallowed by the dense atmosphere, like being lost in a dream.
Laurel Halo follows last year’s ‘Atlas’ stunner with an excellent contribution to the Portraits GRM series, taking a quietly orchestral 21 minute nite flyte on one side.
On last year's Boomkat EOY chart-topping 'Atlas', Laurel Halo was inspired by Italo Calvino's 1972 novel 'Invisible Cities'. 'Octavia' lays out some of those themes - specifically the idea of a "spiderweb city" - using delicate piano motifs and swooping, chimerical strings. It's an unashamedly romantic composition, but riddled with a darkness that creeps around the edges. Gorgeous, smoky cinematics are buoyed by booming, noxious rumbles, and Halo's finely tweaked electronic processes propel the piece from a tangible real world of inscrutable cityscapes to an unknowable sci-fi sprawl way above. Indeed, the piece's title is a reference to Calvino's floating city that's perched over a vast abyss, balanced on a precarious net. It's hard not to see it as a reference to our own perilous reality, and as worldly themes poke through the lace - diminutive snippets of smoked-out jazz and romantic baroque music - they're unavoidably swallowed by the dense atmosphere, like being lost in a dream.
Laurel Halo follows last year’s ‘Atlas’ stunner with an excellent contribution to the Portraits GRM series, taking a quietly orchestral 21 minute nite flyte on one side.
On last year's Boomkat EOY chart-topping 'Atlas', Laurel Halo was inspired by Italo Calvino's 1972 novel 'Invisible Cities'. 'Octavia' lays out some of those themes - specifically the idea of a "spiderweb city" - using delicate piano motifs and swooping, chimerical strings. It's an unashamedly romantic composition, but riddled with a darkness that creeps around the edges. Gorgeous, smoky cinematics are buoyed by booming, noxious rumbles, and Halo's finely tweaked electronic processes propel the piece from a tangible real world of inscrutable cityscapes to an unknowable sci-fi sprawl way above. Indeed, the piece's title is a reference to Calvino's floating city that's perched over a vast abyss, balanced on a precarious net. It's hard not to see it as a reference to our own perilous reality, and as worldly themes poke through the lace - diminutive snippets of smoked-out jazz and romantic baroque music - they're unavoidably swallowed by the dense atmosphere, like being lost in a dream.