Teresa Winter hails ancient, classical and metaphysical worlds on her stunning debut album for Night School, her most cohesive statement of blissed intent to date. Deep, atmospheric music, it comes highly recommended if you’re into Cosey Fanni Tutti, Annea Lockwood, Kate Bush, Ana Roxanne, Aaron Dilloway.
‘Proserpine’ finds Winter shedding the skewed club tropes that defined her albums for The Death of Rave and instead zoom into the more ambiguous, atmospheric aspects we first heard on her Peter Greenaway-inspired ‘Drowning by Numbers’ release of 2021. ‘Proserpine’ is named after the Roman interpretation of the Greek Goddess Persephone, who was plucked from the heavens by Dis (later Pluto) and taken to the underworld to be his consort. Her mother, Ceres, scours the earth in search of her, ravaging fertile lands until she's rescued.
Winter uses the fable as a conceptual springboard, using fuliginous lyricism to craft a unique, densely layered poem that subsumes the welkin and the abyss. Elements of experimental classical, ambient and pop music rise, rouse and recede from its custom melange of lo-fi, obsolete electronics and acoustic sources of voice, strings, and field recordings, freely moving from coast to ridge via discrete passages of the imagination.
Cloistered melodies seduce us into 'Circles’; dusty and tape-mangled, forming a mossy bed for Winter's painterly voice. Wordless at first, discernible phrases eventually appear on 'Flower of the Mountain’, a swirl of mangled choral loops and humming organs that nod to Kate Bush and James Joyce. ‘Blood Moon Myrtle’ grounds us in quiet hyperreality, while traces of trip-pop shimmer thru LP highlight ‘Child of Nature’, and the dreamlike interpolation ‘New Water’ twists classic pop with wistful string-loops, leaving us in a spiral of luxuriant heartbreak as the credits roll.
Our hearts are in our mouths for the duration of ‘Prosperine’; its sense of romantic tristesse and hallucinatory grasp of reality making us feel like we’re practically inhabiting Teresa Winter’s dreams.
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Teresa Winter hails ancient, classical and metaphysical worlds on her stunning debut album for Night School, her most cohesive statement of blissed intent to date. Deep, atmospheric music, it comes highly recommended if you’re into Cosey Fanni Tutti, Annea Lockwood, Kate Bush, Ana Roxanne, Aaron Dilloway.
‘Proserpine’ finds Winter shedding the skewed club tropes that defined her albums for The Death of Rave and instead zoom into the more ambiguous, atmospheric aspects we first heard on her Peter Greenaway-inspired ‘Drowning by Numbers’ release of 2021. ‘Proserpine’ is named after the Roman interpretation of the Greek Goddess Persephone, who was plucked from the heavens by Dis (later Pluto) and taken to the underworld to be his consort. Her mother, Ceres, scours the earth in search of her, ravaging fertile lands until she's rescued.
Winter uses the fable as a conceptual springboard, using fuliginous lyricism to craft a unique, densely layered poem that subsumes the welkin and the abyss. Elements of experimental classical, ambient and pop music rise, rouse and recede from its custom melange of lo-fi, obsolete electronics and acoustic sources of voice, strings, and field recordings, freely moving from coast to ridge via discrete passages of the imagination.
Cloistered melodies seduce us into 'Circles’; dusty and tape-mangled, forming a mossy bed for Winter's painterly voice. Wordless at first, discernible phrases eventually appear on 'Flower of the Mountain’, a swirl of mangled choral loops and humming organs that nod to Kate Bush and James Joyce. ‘Blood Moon Myrtle’ grounds us in quiet hyperreality, while traces of trip-pop shimmer thru LP highlight ‘Child of Nature’, and the dreamlike interpolation ‘New Water’ twists classic pop with wistful string-loops, leaving us in a spiral of luxuriant heartbreak as the credits roll.
Our hearts are in our mouths for the duration of ‘Prosperine’; its sense of romantic tristesse and hallucinatory grasp of reality making us feel like we’re practically inhabiting Teresa Winter’s dreams.
Teresa Winter hails ancient, classical and metaphysical worlds on her stunning debut album for Night School, her most cohesive statement of blissed intent to date. Deep, atmospheric music, it comes highly recommended if you’re into Cosey Fanni Tutti, Annea Lockwood, Kate Bush, Ana Roxanne, Aaron Dilloway.
‘Proserpine’ finds Winter shedding the skewed club tropes that defined her albums for The Death of Rave and instead zoom into the more ambiguous, atmospheric aspects we first heard on her Peter Greenaway-inspired ‘Drowning by Numbers’ release of 2021. ‘Proserpine’ is named after the Roman interpretation of the Greek Goddess Persephone, who was plucked from the heavens by Dis (later Pluto) and taken to the underworld to be his consort. Her mother, Ceres, scours the earth in search of her, ravaging fertile lands until she's rescued.
Winter uses the fable as a conceptual springboard, using fuliginous lyricism to craft a unique, densely layered poem that subsumes the welkin and the abyss. Elements of experimental classical, ambient and pop music rise, rouse and recede from its custom melange of lo-fi, obsolete electronics and acoustic sources of voice, strings, and field recordings, freely moving from coast to ridge via discrete passages of the imagination.
Cloistered melodies seduce us into 'Circles’; dusty and tape-mangled, forming a mossy bed for Winter's painterly voice. Wordless at first, discernible phrases eventually appear on 'Flower of the Mountain’, a swirl of mangled choral loops and humming organs that nod to Kate Bush and James Joyce. ‘Blood Moon Myrtle’ grounds us in quiet hyperreality, while traces of trip-pop shimmer thru LP highlight ‘Child of Nature’, and the dreamlike interpolation ‘New Water’ twists classic pop with wistful string-loops, leaving us in a spiral of luxuriant heartbreak as the credits roll.
Our hearts are in our mouths for the duration of ‘Prosperine’; its sense of romantic tristesse and hallucinatory grasp of reality making us feel like we’re practically inhabiting Teresa Winter’s dreams.
Teresa Winter hails ancient, classical and metaphysical worlds on her stunning debut album for Night School, her most cohesive statement of blissed intent to date. Deep, atmospheric music, it comes highly recommended if you’re into Cosey Fanni Tutti, Annea Lockwood, Kate Bush, Ana Roxanne, Aaron Dilloway.
‘Proserpine’ finds Winter shedding the skewed club tropes that defined her albums for The Death of Rave and instead zoom into the more ambiguous, atmospheric aspects we first heard on her Peter Greenaway-inspired ‘Drowning by Numbers’ release of 2021. ‘Proserpine’ is named after the Roman interpretation of the Greek Goddess Persephone, who was plucked from the heavens by Dis (later Pluto) and taken to the underworld to be his consort. Her mother, Ceres, scours the earth in search of her, ravaging fertile lands until she's rescued.
Winter uses the fable as a conceptual springboard, using fuliginous lyricism to craft a unique, densely layered poem that subsumes the welkin and the abyss. Elements of experimental classical, ambient and pop music rise, rouse and recede from its custom melange of lo-fi, obsolete electronics and acoustic sources of voice, strings, and field recordings, freely moving from coast to ridge via discrete passages of the imagination.
Cloistered melodies seduce us into 'Circles’; dusty and tape-mangled, forming a mossy bed for Winter's painterly voice. Wordless at first, discernible phrases eventually appear on 'Flower of the Mountain’, a swirl of mangled choral loops and humming organs that nod to Kate Bush and James Joyce. ‘Blood Moon Myrtle’ grounds us in quiet hyperreality, while traces of trip-pop shimmer thru LP highlight ‘Child of Nature’, and the dreamlike interpolation ‘New Water’ twists classic pop with wistful string-loops, leaving us in a spiral of luxuriant heartbreak as the credits roll.
Our hearts are in our mouths for the duration of ‘Prosperine’; its sense of romantic tristesse and hallucinatory grasp of reality making us feel like we’re practically inhabiting Teresa Winter’s dreams.
Exclusive Blue Vinyl, edition of 100 copies. Comes with a download of the album dropped to your account.
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Teresa Winter hails ancient, classical and metaphysical worlds on her stunning debut album for Night School, her most cohesive statement of blissed intent to date. Deep, atmospheric music, it comes highly recommended if you’re into Cosey Fanni Tutti, Annea Lockwood, Kate Bush, Ana Roxanne, Aaron Dilloway.
‘Proserpine’ finds Winter shedding the skewed club tropes that defined her albums for The Death of Rave and instead zoom into the more ambiguous, atmospheric aspects we first heard on her Peter Greenaway-inspired ‘Drowning by Numbers’ release of 2021. ‘Proserpine’ is named after the Roman interpretation of the Greek Goddess Persephone, who was plucked from the heavens by Dis (later Pluto) and taken to the underworld to be his consort. Her mother, Ceres, scours the earth in search of her, ravaging fertile lands until she's rescued.
Winter uses the fable as a conceptual springboard, using fuliginous lyricism to craft a unique, densely layered poem that subsumes the welkin and the abyss. Elements of experimental classical, ambient and pop music rise, rouse and recede from its custom melange of lo-fi, obsolete electronics and acoustic sources of voice, strings, and field recordings, freely moving from coast to ridge via discrete passages of the imagination.
Cloistered melodies seduce us into 'Circles’; dusty and tape-mangled, forming a mossy bed for Winter's painterly voice. Wordless at first, discernible phrases eventually appear on 'Flower of the Mountain’, a swirl of mangled choral loops and humming organs that nod to Kate Bush and James Joyce. ‘Blood Moon Myrtle’ grounds us in quiet hyperreality, while traces of trip-pop shimmer thru LP highlight ‘Child of Nature’, and the dreamlike interpolation ‘New Water’ twists classic pop with wistful string-loops, leaving us in a spiral of luxuriant heartbreak as the credits roll.
Our hearts are in our mouths for the duration of ‘Prosperine’; its sense of romantic tristesse and hallucinatory grasp of reality making us feel like we’re practically inhabiting Teresa Winter’s dreams.
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Teresa Winter hails ancient, classical and metaphysical worlds on her stunning debut album for Night School, her most cohesive statement of blissed intent to date. Deep, atmospheric music, it comes highly recommended if you’re into Cosey Fanni Tutti, Annea Lockwood, Kate Bush, Ana Roxanne, Aaron Dilloway.
‘Proserpine’ finds Winter shedding the skewed club tropes that defined her albums for The Death of Rave and instead zoom into the more ambiguous, atmospheric aspects we first heard on her Peter Greenaway-inspired ‘Drowning by Numbers’ release of 2021. ‘Proserpine’ is named after the Roman interpretation of the Greek Goddess Persephone, who was plucked from the heavens by Dis (later Pluto) and taken to the underworld to be his consort. Her mother, Ceres, scours the earth in search of her, ravaging fertile lands until she's rescued.
Winter uses the fable as a conceptual springboard, using fuliginous lyricism to craft a unique, densely layered poem that subsumes the welkin and the abyss. Elements of experimental classical, ambient and pop music rise, rouse and recede from its custom melange of lo-fi, obsolete electronics and acoustic sources of voice, strings, and field recordings, freely moving from coast to ridge via discrete passages of the imagination.
Cloistered melodies seduce us into 'Circles’; dusty and tape-mangled, forming a mossy bed for Winter's painterly voice. Wordless at first, discernible phrases eventually appear on 'Flower of the Mountain’, a swirl of mangled choral loops and humming organs that nod to Kate Bush and James Joyce. ‘Blood Moon Myrtle’ grounds us in quiet hyperreality, while traces of trip-pop shimmer thru LP highlight ‘Child of Nature’, and the dreamlike interpolation ‘New Water’ twists classic pop with wistful string-loops, leaving us in a spiral of luxuriant heartbreak as the credits roll.
Our hearts are in our mouths for the duration of ‘Prosperine’; its sense of romantic tristesse and hallucinatory grasp of reality making us feel like we’re practically inhabiting Teresa Winter’s dreams.