Felte

In the chaos of our every day, it can be difficult to find time for pause. Knee-jerk reactions have become the norm, while the instantaneous fog clouding our culture urges us to move along, to step away from the present moment. Mexico City-based songwriter and instrumentalist Estrella del Sol wanted to craft a space where there is finally room to breathe, and time to arrange the patchwork of our reality. On new album Figura de Cristal, she encourages fragility, and celebrates the delicacy of our ever-evolving selves. Estrella del Sol is known for her work in shoegaze band Mint Field, hailed for their tender exploration of sentimentality and grief. While Mint Field propel their themes with oozing, amplified guitars and commanding vocals, del Sol’s solo work blossoms in a quieter, more electronic space. “I wanted to experiment more with my vocals and mainly synth sounds, always trying to find a different sound,” she explains. The result is a patient and nurturing collection of songs that remind us of the importance in taking our time. Her first solo album, Un espacio de lo imaginario, released in 2020 and recorded in the first two months of the pandemic, introduced del Sol’s ethereal side. Expansive vocal dynamics dance carefully through gentle melodic structures, showcasing the intimacy of del Sol’s solo arrangements. Figura de Cristal builds upon this intimacy, adding a blanket of subdued yet glittering drones, haunting electric guitars and celestial vocal textures. It was written, recorded and produced entirely by Estrella del Sol at her home in Mexico City, with cello contributions by experimental composer and personal friend Mabe Fratti and mixed by Mint Field bassist Sebastian Neyra. The album includes field recordings of Estrella del Sol’s surroundings, namely her neighborhood in Mexico City. By including these miniature portraits of her reality, Figura de Cristal acts as a kaleidoscopic interrogation into what it means to be alive, and how others figure into the images we create for ourselves. By using the recordings, del Sol says “the album could feel familiar to my reality at that particular moment.” Enmeshing them into the album’s ambient arrangements, Figura de Cristal threads together the familiar and the fantastical. It’s a reminder of the coexistence of multiple realities. When making the LP, Estrella del Sol wanted to create a soundtrack that could replicate the calming notion of a sunset-stroked evening, or the pink tones of a quiet morning. The title track, “Figura de Cristal,” replicates the grace of these moments, teaching us to lend ourselves that same grace and gentleness, even during the most difficult days. “This album became a reminder to me that I have to take care of myself and that If I don't, I can break like a crystal figure,” she explains. “I have to learn to empathize with myself and the people surrounding me. That everyone's perspective of reality is different and there's no true answer.” Figura de Cristal is an album about curiosity, and the merit in embracing our vulnerabilities. There is not one single reality, or experience, but instead an infinite range of truths. Through improvisational techniques and dynamically droney sonic textures, Estrella del Sol asserts the joy in following your instincts, rather than following the rules. Figura de Cristal rids itself of rigid structure or certain form, bending to a liminal space that declares joy in the unknown, and an exhale in the unfamiliar.。

Listening to Fashion Club’s self-produced second album A Love You Cannot Shake feels like being caught in the crossfire of a profound beam of light. You can’t help but feel both enlivened and exposed as its aberrant synth lines, artful strings and disfigured guitars swell into larger-than-life crescendos, which evoke a divine yet probing spotlight. You can bask in the glow of a towering light with self-assured poise, but there’s also something inherently uncomfortable about an imposing light source—revealing yourself to onlookers (and oneself) comes with varying levels of anxiety and self-doubt. This is the tension at the heart of A Love You Cannot Shake, a record of lush radiance and otherworldly scope, with each track functioning as its own twinkling, transportive realm. Pascal Stevenson, the Los Angeles-based musician behind Fashion Club, likens the experience of hearing A Love You Cannot Shake to staring into the sun, and though the record wasn’t written with religion in mind, its heavenly sonics and emotional sagacity also make it feel like a prophetic encounter. The album was shaped by Stevenson’s gender transition and sobriety journey and parses her fluid emotions surrounding these events and other personal trials and tribulations. But as much as it's a dialogue between Stevenson’s current and former selves, it’s also an invitation for listeners to join her in the work of discarding bitterness and recentering hope, especially when such efforts feel futile. Musically, A Love You Cannot Shake is an unshackling of expectations, as Stevenson’s previous stint as bassist in the L.A. post-punk outfit Moaning and her first record as Fashion Club, 2022’s Scrutiny, didn’t necessarily reflect the full range of her taste, which includes ambient, pop, classical and dance music, or embody her sensitive tenderness and femininity. “By the time Scrutiny came out, I had transitioned, and I was making different music and caring about different things,” Stevenson says. “I felt less held back by ‘Oh I’m this kind of person, I have to make this kind of music,’ and I reached a point where I was like, ‘Let me just try to write a bunch of songs on acoustic guitar and piano, where I think the songs are good and have a solid core and then start producing them and see what happens if I don’t put any limitations in place.’” Though A Love You Cannot Shake is the first album that explicitly addresses her transness, it’s not so much a “coming out” record or a confessional, straightforward tell-all as it is a tastefully abstract distillation of her personal experiences and identities into stirring vignettes that anyone can relate to. Whether it’s the search for self-worth in a society that only values humanity in its relation to capital (“Confusion”), the uncomfortably circular nature of self-growth (“Forget”) or the self-destructive urge to make up for “lost time” (“Ghost”), this LP is rooted in the universal truth that self-actualization is always worth pursuing. Tracks often begin from a place of discomfort and shame, but by the end, they tend to arrive at a more patient, hopeful frame of mind, as Stevenson cherishes the authenticity of a more amorphous emotionality. A Love You Cannot Shake also thrives on a fluid sonic palette. The throttling balladry of “Faith” falls somewhere between gentle pop, glitchy industrial and epic classical music. “Ghost” has a bubbly garage-y techno thrust, and “One Day” soars with its electronic take on anthemic heartland rock. The album’s magnetic immersiveness hinges on its strange dynamic shifts, jagged production and ambitious song structures with parts that don’t repeat—choices influenced by her love of left-field electro-pop and her classical music background. Stevenson was inspired by the movements and storytelling of classical music, and she even picked up the upright bass again for this record, despite not touching the instrument for years. While Stevenson handled most of the instrumentals on Scrutiny, this LP is much more collaborative, featuring an array of contributors who lent strings, piano, pedal steel and more. Plus, this album boasts country harmonies from Perfume Genius (“Forget”), high-pitched coos from Jay Som (“Ghost”) and gauzy whispers from Julie Byrne (“Rotten Mind”). Stevenson’s vocal evolution is also on display with this record, embracing a softer delivery that’s more reflective of her personality and identity. With this album, Stevenson masterfully executes a daring vision and chronicles how far she’s come in several facets. Sonically, she says, “It feels like the album I’ve wanted to make for the past 10 years, but didn’t have the musical vocabulary to or was scared to,” and personally, she says, “I am, for once in my life, finally feeling something I’ve been reaching for forever, and I want to live in that feeling for the rest of my life.” A Love You Cannot Shake vehemently encourages a walk towards the edge and into the sultry glow—after all, it’s cold out here in the cynical abyss of our minds.

Aprender a Ser: Extended is a mini-LP by Mexico City band Mint Field. It was recorded at the same sessions as Mint Field's latest album Aprender A Ser which Pitchfork called “... a dream world without much explanation, but like the body settling into a chilled pool, the acclimation is worth it.” . The core duo of Estrella del Sol and Sebastian Neyra decided to split the work into an album and an EP as they felt it was too dense for a double album and wanted these songs to co-exist in another space and have its own time to shine. As with Aprender A Ser, the EP incorporates influences from shoegaze, trip-hop, dream pop and electronic music. On the final track, "El mar me veía", the band invited longtime friend and cello player Mabe Fratti to play with them. Mabe also showed up on Estrella’s solo album titled Figura de Cristal in 2023.

Over the past seven years, Public Memory’s distinctive use of analog synthesizers, electronic beats mixed with organic percussion, lo-fi sound design, and gritty ambience has created a singularly eerie and shadowy world. The first seconds of Public Memory’s new record, Elegiac Beat, thrust us immediately into that world. We are in media res, with a feeling of sudden movement from a sensible point A to B. Given some time however, we realize that there is something askew–a bit of brightness here, some shadows pushed aside, some jazz and funk amongst the dub and Krautrock. This is an unfamiliar, ambiguous mood that pushes Public Memory towards new ground. We still drift past the clouded lights and hollowed out buildings of previous albums, but with an occasional bounce in our step now, a bit of golden haze around the edges. Elegiac Beat is between two places, and as it straddles the line between the two, we are uncertain if the light it brings shines directly from the sun, or if it is dimly reflected through that majestic ballroom world.