€14,00
in stock
0
0
Humble epiphanies lie in a dusty piano’s muted motifs, as percussive elements flicker like formative memories. This record finds a quiet freedom in being untethered from burdens.
“I was admitted to Son Llàtzer Hospital in Mallorca on October 1, 2024, following a psychotic shock.”
This could well have been the opening sentence of a confessional novel, but it’s not. It’s the first line of an email, which landed in my mailbox seemingly out of nowhere. The words were written by Baptiste Martin, the composer behind Les Halles.
In his letter, sent as a PDF document, Baptiste offered his friends a concise but striking report on his whereabouts from the past months. In brief, Baptiste was lost, found, lost, and found again—yet seemingly forever confined to the walls of his cerebral interior. The letter describes a loss of grip and self-control, like a baby water turtle trying to hoist his way out of the fish tank by scratching the glass walls, without any result.
Baptiste is a musician and not a writer. His opening line is thus followed by an album, not a novel. This is the album. Yet, ‘Original Spirit’ doesn’t tell the story of his psychotic shock as a linear nonfiction; it offers a vague resolution to all the mischief in life: the hope for the existence of an original spirit, untainted despite all that might happen during the course of a life.
The album provokes images of what I would perceive as, indeed, an original spirit of oneself: an abstract nothingness breezing through landscapes of colours, searching for places beyond the boundaries of what we call freedom in the material world. A stream of sound, nostalgic for a time that never existed; a mystical loophole that we know isn’t there, yet still crave. In short: the sound of an uncannily serene feeling beyond hope.
— Ringo Gomez-Jorge
€14,00
in stock
Humble epiphanies lie in a dusty piano’s muted motifs, as percussive elements flicker like formative memories. This record finds a quiet freedom in being untethered from burdens.
“I was admitted to Son Llàtzer Hospital in Mallorca on October 1, 2024, following a psychotic shock.”
This could well have been the opening sentence of a confessional novel, but it’s not. It’s the first line of an email, which landed in my mailbox seemingly out of nowhere. The words were written by Baptiste Martin, the composer behind Les Halles.
In his letter, sent as a PDF document, Baptiste offered his friends a concise but striking report on his whereabouts from the past months. In brief, Baptiste was lost, found, lost, and found again—yet seemingly forever confined to the walls of his cerebral interior. The letter describes a loss of grip and self-control, like a baby water turtle trying to hoist his way out of the fish tank by scratching the glass walls, without any result.
Baptiste is a musician and not a writer. His opening line is thus followed by an album, not a novel. This is the album. Yet, ‘Original Spirit’ doesn’t tell the story of his psychotic shock as a linear nonfiction; it offers a vague resolution to all the mischief in life: the hope for the existence of an original spirit, untainted despite all that might happen during the course of a life.
The album provokes images of what I would perceive as, indeed, an original spirit of oneself: an abstract nothingness breezing through landscapes of colours, searching for places beyond the boundaries of what we call freedom in the material world. A stream of sound, nostalgic for a time that never existed; a mystical loophole that we know isn’t there, yet still crave. In short: the sound of an uncannily serene feeling beyond hope.
— Ringo Gomez-Jorge
buitenwallepad 4, ghent fri to sat · 13:00 to 18:00
