Like a hyperpop-pilled answer to The Postal Service, L. Horvath's debut album "Pelts" is US indie emotion offset by baroque instrumentation and quirky electronic production.
Horvath's idea for "Pelts" was to visualize the album as a trading post: a place that would allow people from different places to trade goods, usually in colonial times. So Horvaths songs being built from elements snipped from vastly different places represent this idea, sold into "conventional relations of composition" and disassembled by the listener. We're not completely sure whether the music does this or not, but respect for trying all the same.
Horvath's starting point was a bank of samples of his great aunt's piano and guitar, and these elements underpin songs that erupt into chirping, glitchy electronics and whimsical indie-emo vocals. It's charming when it hits the right note, and benefits from Chris Oberholzer's gorgeous strings - the familiarity of the material (it's not unlike The Postal Service or DNTEL) might be a sticking point, but Horvath's hyperpop utility belt gives the tracks enough fizz to lodge themselves in the mind for a second or two.
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Like a hyperpop-pilled answer to The Postal Service, L. Horvath's debut album "Pelts" is US indie emotion offset by baroque instrumentation and quirky electronic production.
Horvath's idea for "Pelts" was to visualize the album as a trading post: a place that would allow people from different places to trade goods, usually in colonial times. So Horvaths songs being built from elements snipped from vastly different places represent this idea, sold into "conventional relations of composition" and disassembled by the listener. We're not completely sure whether the music does this or not, but respect for trying all the same.
Horvath's starting point was a bank of samples of his great aunt's piano and guitar, and these elements underpin songs that erupt into chirping, glitchy electronics and whimsical indie-emo vocals. It's charming when it hits the right note, and benefits from Chris Oberholzer's gorgeous strings - the familiarity of the material (it's not unlike The Postal Service or DNTEL) might be a sticking point, but Horvath's hyperpop utility belt gives the tracks enough fizz to lodge themselves in the mind for a second or two.
Like a hyperpop-pilled answer to The Postal Service, L. Horvath's debut album "Pelts" is US indie emotion offset by baroque instrumentation and quirky electronic production.
Horvath's idea for "Pelts" was to visualize the album as a trading post: a place that would allow people from different places to trade goods, usually in colonial times. So Horvaths songs being built from elements snipped from vastly different places represent this idea, sold into "conventional relations of composition" and disassembled by the listener. We're not completely sure whether the music does this or not, but respect for trying all the same.
Horvath's starting point was a bank of samples of his great aunt's piano and guitar, and these elements underpin songs that erupt into chirping, glitchy electronics and whimsical indie-emo vocals. It's charming when it hits the right note, and benefits from Chris Oberholzer's gorgeous strings - the familiarity of the material (it's not unlike The Postal Service or DNTEL) might be a sticking point, but Horvath's hyperpop utility belt gives the tracks enough fizz to lodge themselves in the mind for a second or two.
Like a hyperpop-pilled answer to The Postal Service, L. Horvath's debut album "Pelts" is US indie emotion offset by baroque instrumentation and quirky electronic production.
Horvath's idea for "Pelts" was to visualize the album as a trading post: a place that would allow people from different places to trade goods, usually in colonial times. So Horvaths songs being built from elements snipped from vastly different places represent this idea, sold into "conventional relations of composition" and disassembled by the listener. We're not completely sure whether the music does this or not, but respect for trying all the same.
Horvath's starting point was a bank of samples of his great aunt's piano and guitar, and these elements underpin songs that erupt into chirping, glitchy electronics and whimsical indie-emo vocals. It's charming when it hits the right note, and benefits from Chris Oberholzer's gorgeous strings - the familiarity of the material (it's not unlike The Postal Service or DNTEL) might be a sticking point, but Horvath's hyperpop utility belt gives the tracks enough fizz to lodge themselves in the mind for a second or two.