Raw Silk Uncut Wood

23,00

out of stock

why we love this

Its touch conceals the underlying warmth and excitement—restless in form yet sublime in texture.

about the record

"What works reliably is to know the raw silk, hold the uncut wood. Need little. Want less. Forget the rules. Be untroubled."

Laurel Halo presents six instrumental pieces that form a meditative, cinematic listening experience. Inspired by recent film score work for Metahaven and Ursula Le Guin's translation of the 'Tao Te Ching'. Featuring cello work by Oliver Coates and percussion by Eli Keszler.

Working in abstraction leads to a deeper longing for touch and closeness. The tactile sensation of struck organ keys and bowed strings, wood and felt on drum heads. Smoke and dirt and stone. Febrile and tactile, hairy and hissy. A clover of highway onramps, a continuous flow, like old leaves melting on their way down a stream at the back of a house. Constant contradiction, the truth's nowhere.

  1. 1 - Raw Silk Uncut Wood 10:00
  2. 2 - Mercury 3:57
  3. 3 - Quietude 2:32
  4. 4 - The Sick Mind 4:24
  5. 5 - Supine 1:28
  6. 6 - Nahbarkeit 10:08

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Raw Silk Uncut Wood

23,00

out of stock

  1. 1 - Raw Silk Uncut Wood 10:00
  2. 2 - Mercury 3:57
  3. 3 - Quietude 2:32
  4. 4 - The Sick Mind 4:24
  5. 5 - Supine 1:28
  6. 6 - Nahbarkeit 10:08

Embed

Copy and paste this code to your site to embed.

why we love this

Its touch conceals the underlying warmth and excitement—restless in form yet sublime in texture.

about the record

"What works reliably is to know the raw silk, hold the uncut wood. Need little. Want less. Forget the rules. Be untroubled."

Laurel Halo presents six instrumental pieces that form a meditative, cinematic listening experience. Inspired by recent film score work for Metahaven and Ursula Le Guin's translation of the 'Tao Te Ching'. Featuring cello work by Oliver Coates and percussion by Eli Keszler.

Working in abstraction leads to a deeper longing for touch and closeness. The tactile sensation of struck organ keys and bowed strings, wood and felt on drum heads. Smoke and dirt and stone. Febrile and tactile, hairy and hissy. A clover of highway onramps, a continuous flow, like old leaves melting on their way down a stream at the back of a house. Constant contradiction, the truth's nowhere.

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