Rezultat digitalnog dopisivanja Stephena Orsaka koji je ostao u Austinu i Lauren McMurray koja je otišla u Japan skupljati semplove.
Zvukovi laganim koracima hodaju po blatu i upadaju u usta malim meditativnim životinjama.
Paper Cloud Improvisations, a series of live improvisations, blend ambient guitar tones with looped sounds of rustling paper and whispers, and the result is hauntingly beautiful. Twigs & Yarn are a duo based out of Austin, TX whose songs are almost exclusively improvised & recorded live. "Bird Whisperer" is a stunning example of an ambient soundscape created by organic sounds. In all of their tracks, though, there's an undercurrent of tension hidden in the layers that makes it difficult to pull away.
The collection can be heard in its entirety on Soundcloud.The duo's debut full-length album, The Language of Flowers, whose album cover is featured above, is set to be released August 22 through the Japanese label Flau.
Twigs & Yarn sound right at home on Japanese label flau, and some of the sounds on this album were recorded while one of its members was living in Japan, but they’re actually from Austin. The duo utilizes homemade instruments, found sounds and field recordings along with ethereal vocals, static/glitch sounds, and general loveliness. “If I Were An Artery” has a minimal drum machine and bass pulse framing the sample collage into more melodic, songlike territory. Most of the rest of the tracks use rhythm more freely, ranging from acoustic free-folk to tracks which break into a crunchy, non-linear beat only when they’re ready. “Rosy Cheeked Pumpkin” begins with the sound of a music box, is loosely guided by a loop of a plucked bassline, and features all sorts of whispering voices hidden in the architecture. It’s no wonder Nick Zammuto of The Books mastered this album, as there’s such subtle, intricate use of found voices and melodies, but at the same time it doesn’t really sound like The Books. It doesn’t quite weave together a narrative the way the Books did, and it’s much more interested in creating dreamy soundscapes than The Books’ comparatively more poppy collages. To be honest, I prefer what Twigs & Yarn do much more; they keep the tempos low or abstract, and it’s more conducive to get lost in. - Paul Simpson
It's telling that “Laverne” opens The Language of Flowers, Lauren McMurray and Stephen Orsak's debut Twigs & Yarn collection, even if it is a mere forty-three seconds long. The reason? Like some broken radio transmission, the scratchy, hiss-smothered collage of vocal musings, bell tinkles, and whistling clarifies in an instant just how much the Texas-born duo emphasize found sounds within their song structures. The track that follows, “Static Rowing,” expands upon the intro's sound-world to include a dreamy musical component whose gently flowing percussion, wordless vocal murmurs, and atmospheric guitar textures prove soothing in the extreme. The latter style is the one that is more emblematic of the group's style, but the point made by “Laverne” is clear: this is ambient-electronic material that treats its collage and musical elements as equally important parts of the whole.
A typical Twigs & Yarn song grounds a multi-tiered arrangement woven from non-musical sounds and simple melodic structures with a slow-motion rhythm base. In that regard, “Flowers Thirsty,” which finds Japanese radio snippets abruptly supplanted by a drowsy, crackle-drenched mass of breathy vocals, bass pulses, and shimmering guitars, can be seen as a near-perfect exemplar of the forty-four-minute album's style. The duo gives its sound a slightly different twist in “If I Were an Artery” by adding the sunlit tinkle of a child-like melody and vocal fragments left over from some Boards of Canada session.
Field recordings are an integral part of the Twigs & Yarn sound (traffic and beach-side noise, people talking, etc.) but so too are the musical patterns that Orsak uses to lend the material structure and coherence. Apparently McMurray collected many of the sounds while living in Japan, things such as radio noise, temple bells, peoples' voices, and her own fragile and ethereal vocalizing. Orsak then wove the elements together, augmenting them with guitars, electronics, field recordings, and sequencers, to form the album tracks in their issued form. Their approach was to some degree set by a year-long separation that found them exchanging files using e-mail and FTP servers and progressively shaping the songs' diverse micro-elements into coherent form. There's a lo-fi quality to the songs, too, due to the basic recorders and homemade microphones that were utilized in the recording process.Whereas much of the album plays like a meandering stream of acoustic guitar strums, electric guitar shadings, bells, and music boxes, the songs that stress the melodic dimension, such as “Marigold Ride” and “Strings of Complacency,” are more memorable than those that emphasize texture and mood. In the wistful latter song, for example, piano tinkles and a synthesizer's soft wheeze interact alongside soft vocals and lulling acoustic guitar patterns to create a lullaby-like effect that's arresting, while “Learning to Glisten” ends the album on a peaceful note in merging twilight musical textures with night-time field recordings of insects. Of course the Twigs & Yarn name itself implies much about the group's approach, given that it suggests the stitching together of sounds originating from unconventional sound sources, and certainly the album makes good on the implicit promise of the name. - textura.org
I’ll say it from the outset: I love this album. I love everything about it. There is just something about it that manages to tickle that bit of my brain that provokes slavish adoration…and that’s a bit of my brain that doesn’t get much tickling.
It’s not that there’s anything here that you haven’t necessarily heard before; in fact, there are some very clear points of reference that would give you some idea of what to expect here: Nick Zammuto of ‘the books’ fame takes on mastering duties (which should give you some clue as to the sounds here) but it is 2010′s beautiful album ‘Bridge Carols’ by Laura Gibson and Ethan Rose that provides the most tangible precedent set by other artists. ‘The Language of Flowers’ contains a similar sonic palette to this landmark album and manages to evoke a comparable emotional response which, like ‘Bridge Carols’, straddles that apparently unbridgeable divide between revelling in the intricate minutiae of day-to-day life and a quasi-numinous, otherworldly detachment. There is a perfect marriage between traditional organic instrumentation and unabashed electronic processing that retains the warmth of the source material and augments it with glitches, cuts, pops and clicks. It’s a combination that is often tried out and found on many albums but rarely as successfully as you’ll find here.
From the stage-setting opening fizz of radio static, distant vocals and woozy taped guitar, we are plunged into “Static Rowing”, a hypnotic looped lullaby of subdued dusty tones, vinyl crackle, piano, tumbling guitar phrases and ethereal voice that fades into and out of consciousness like the external world during the initial stages of sleep. “If I Were an Artery” follows, which seems to reference Jan Jelinek style cuts and loops and slowly morphs into a kind of subdued lounge jazz track that retains an unmistakeable abstraction at its core. As the album progresses, a distinct vision emerges that touches on all the major musical tricks that we find time and again in contemporary electro/acoustic/folk music – drones, field recordings, chiming music-box tones, tape/vinyl/radio hiss, processed guitars, hushed or disembodied vocals – and somehow manages to configure them in a way that makes them all sound fresh again….AND does so in a way which allows a fairy tale melodicism to emerge amongst the delicate experimentation so that you never forget that you’re listening to music and not just sound.
I can honestly say that its been a long time since I’ve been so captivated by an album as I have been by ‘The Language of Flowers’. It just seems so personal – the entire album seems to whisper assurances that life is good. Trite though the suggestion might be, this album would be the ideal soundtrack to lying on your back in a rowing boat with the sun and shadows playing across half-closed eyes on a Sunday afternoon – blissful, peaceful and dreamlike. - John McCaffrey for Fluid Radio