- Incorporating vocals and more traditional song structures, Spirit Exit takes the Italian artist's epic synth odysseys and pulls them down a little closer to Earth.
- Guided by female philosophers and mystics like St. Teresa D'Avila, Rosi Braidotti and Emily Dickinson, Italian synth and arpeggio virtuoso Caterina Barbieri's fifth album, Spirit Exit, has an ascending quality. It's a record of spellbinding songcraft, more confident than ever before—and it's her first foray out on her own, with her new label light-years, founded after stints on prestigious experimental imprints Important Records and Editions Mego. Assembled entirely at her home in Milan, Spirit Exit marks the first time Barbieri sat down to write a record that wasn't sequenced among the humdrum noise and unpredictable chaos of life on the road.
Like so much of Barbieri's work, Spirit Exit is unabashedly maximalist, with layers of layers of synthesizer interlocking and coming apart at various intervals. Huge crescendos and sonic cliffhangers create visceral moments of sonic intensity across these soaring eight tracks. "Knot of Spirit (Synth Version)" is an epic ballad that reminds me of Oneohtrix Point Never's flirtations with rock music on records like Garden Of Delete. Slowly rising arpeggios emerge from the fog like daylight piercing through clouds of darkness after a hot, wet storm. The longest track on the record, "Knot Of Spirit" is also the most classic Barbieri song on the LP. Lyra Pramuk features on the independently released single version, which is a chilling confluence of synth and vocals. Slower and more considered on the album, it takes a different, darker mood, thrilling and unsettling for all its nine minutes.
On this LP Barbieri harnesses her own voice as an instrument with more range and versatility than before. Take "Transfixed," which features slow, ethereal vocal swoons in chorus. Combined with timely string plucks, it brings to mind a more physical, human version of Koreless' stunning album Agor from last year (which used vocal synthesizers instead of real voices). "Canticle Of Cryo" takes some direct cues from collaborator Lyra Pramuk, as Barbieri's own voice sounds icy and melancholy. She also picks up her original love, the acoustic guitar, for some low-key noodling before the track surrenders to a galloping modular synth voyage that takes over completely.
"Life At Altitude" sounds like yet another variation on one of her most notable compositions, "Fantas," while "Terminal Clock" features flaring synth hooks meandering over a half-time bassline. These tracks offer more of the synth-focused goodness that should please fans of Barbieri's older work, though Spirit Exit is is still not as intensely transportive as the isolated synth odysseys of Ecstatic Computation, or her earlier opus Patterns Of Consciousness.
Instead, Barbieri is more focused on expanding her sound palette, notably bringing in new dimensions of live-band energy to her work. "Broken Melody" is not just the standout track on the LP—it's by far the most conventional song Barbieri has released to date. Cascading synths and distorted guitars meld perfectly with Barbieri's Cocteau Twins-style smeared vocals in a rapture of emo-euphoria. The influence of another Milanese friend and collaborator, Lorenzo Senni, lurks in the LP's glimmering opener "At Your Gamut," with its lush, pointillistic synth melodies.
Grounding the epic scope of her past work with vocals, lyrics and more discrete moods, there are towering moments of greatness on this record next to moments of vulnerability, both revisiting and building upon some eternal, ever-changing arpeggios Barbieri is most closely associated with. Although Spirit Exit, both more expansive and more restrained, doesn't oscillate as wildly as her previous expeditions, the heart strings remain plucked in gorgeous loops and motifs that spiral out into infinity.
Tracklist01. At Your Gamut
02. Transfixed
03. Canticle of Cryo
04. Knot Of Spirit (Synth Version)
05. Broken Melody
06. Life At Altitude
07. Terminal Clock
08. The Landscape Listens