Composer Robert Ouyang Rusli recently provided the score for write-director Julio Torres’ new A24 comedy film Problemista. The film is about an aspiring toy designer from El Salvador who brings his unorthodox ideas to NYC and takes on a job assisting an eccentric art world figure as a path to keeping his visa and take aim at his dream. From that score comes “Elizabeth’s Voicemail” and its enigmatic, melancholic yet playful sounds between ethereal, choral vocals and what sounds like a harp tracing a scale, dramatic strings lending an element of classical pathos and textural percussive tones including a lonely piano figure around halfway through that grounds the song with a sense of forward motion. All while preserving a delicacy and sensitivity to the piece that pairs well with a film that has an aspect of a fairy tale storybook. The title itself separate from its context in the film suggests hearing a fateful message that propels one into a significant shift in one’s life direction for the better. Listen to “Elizabeth’s Voicemail” on Spotify and follow Robert Ouyang Rusli at the links below.
The music video for Sea Lemon’s new single “Cellar” (from the forthcoming EP Stop at Nothing due out August 25, 2023 via Luminelle Recordings) is probably going to be unsettling and creepy for some but anyone that’s been an aficionado of modern and classic horror say something in the better end of found footage and/or A24 for how that form of cinema can be so compelling and emotionally stimulating will appreciate the haunting minimalism of what is presumably the artist standing on a roof clad in a long white dress, arm-length, red gloves, under a light gray overcast sky with very little going on but the tension of expectation is sustained until the end. The lyrics enhance this unusual and spooky imagery with words about asking if someone wants to “see something that feels so wrong” and about the cellar being where she belongs, and being told she’s off. Then about wondering if someone would want to own a home with a public record of a killer’s association with the the place. And then the chorus of “So I say/sometimes I imitate/yesterday/thingsthat make me afraid.” But the music is so ethereal and gorgeously billowy and entrancingly melodic with textural distortion giving it an element of grit it’s almost a contrast with the subject matter overall giving one a sense of the absurd which is the appeal of a lot of horror and how some of the most horrifying films can be seen as super dark comedy given the right frame of mind not to mention the aforementioned ability of horror films to go beyond standard cinematic fare in provoking thought and feeling because it has to operate in transgressive ways with stories that cross outside of easy mainstream marketing with imagery that leaves a strong impression. There is a compelling beauty to the best and most transcendent of horror films and it is that strange alchemy at work in this Sea Lemon song and its attendant visual presentation shot and edited by songwriter Natalie Lew and Abe Poultridge. Lew and Poultridge tap precisely into what certain fans of music and dark cinema will find exactly to their liking. Masterful. Watch said video on YouTube and follow Sea Lemon aka Natalie Lew at the links provided.
Images in black and white, a woman laying on the ground looking into the near distance flanked by footage of the tides. Then tides coming in and in reverse out. Simple, ghostly synth melody echoing and then giving way to lightly distorted keyboard tracing a line that that goes up and slightly down as the tides move about and hints of another figure appears as a layer of the image over which the tides become slightly transparent. We see a man sitting in an alcove surrounded by an enclosure with foliage. This is how Raelism’s “Self-Soothe Mechanism” starts before the minimalistic percussion edges into the soundscape. The atmosphere of the song and the footage is reminiscent of what a sequel to the 1962 horror classic Carnival of Souls might look and sound like. Especially when the spooky glimmers of higher pitched synth bursts in with short lines answered by hovering, darkly ethereal drones. And then the color as the figure sings/speaks “I didn’t hit you, I didn’t cut you” in almost deadpan fashion. Then the male figure crawls menacing forward from his greened alcove juxtaposed with an image of him sitting at the top of a staircase and holding his face in his hands. It’s a psychological horror in short form and the title of the song might seem counter intuitive except that when someone repeats what he wants to believe to himself to soothe a guilty conscience over some actual or imagined wrong it definitely serves that purpose. Like a mantra that can also serve to heal through reaching into that personal darkness deeply and bringing forth deep seated feelings that haven’t been allowed expression by the conscious mind. And yet the chilling aspect of the composition especially given the video treatment while unsettling is also calming. The combination is like if Alien Sex Fiend made a chill, ambient track with an A24 director directing the music video except in this case it was Abigail Clarkson. Is that perhaps too on the nose connecting the name of this project with the UFO cult of the same name started by Claude Vorihon in the 1970s? Maybe so, but it’s another dimension to this fascinatingly unusual music. Watch the video for “Self-Soothe Mechanism” on YouTube and follow Raelism on Spotify. Look for The Enemy is Us EP set to release in 2022.
Arkle’s video for “Slowly Alive” is like a trailer for an A24 movie about existential, cosmic horror. The plot of the video seems to be about a woman who is taking her time wake up for the day and dreams of mythical landscapes depicted by colorful animation like something from a childhood story book crafted from illustrations and collage. The warping synth lines refracting and moving both forward and processed through light reverse delay at points sets a strong mood of otherworldly reverie. The insistent keyboard line serves as a tonal anchor point through the hazy soundscape as the visuals transition to abstract imagery of black and white kaleidoscopic visuals. The ghostly female vocals are like a tantalizing yet assuring beacon in the fog of this journey to wakeful consciousness guiding us to the track’s conclusion. Musically it’s reminiscent of a spooky and beatless Boards of Canada with Beth Gibbons-esque singing at her most icily ethereal. Watch the video for “Slowly Alive” on YouTube and connect with Arkle at the links below.
Queen City Sounds and Art 
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