Review Summary: Finding a voice in the midst of the storm
Being lost at sea would be one hell of a terrifying prospect. Imagine being cut off from any communication with the outside world, living in constant fear that a storm will rip through your neck of the woods at any time. Your only source of food is the surrounding wildlife and vegetation; soon enough, out of complete boredom and delirium, you’ll wind up befriending a volleyball and naming it Wilson. As the typhoon approaches, your voice - loud as it may be - will slowly disappear. Shout all you can, but it won’t make a difference. Even the loudest screams will be swallowed up by this fierce beast of mother nature’s conception.
While I highly doubt it was Caterina Barbieri’s intention to create a similar vibe in her music, that’s exactly what listening to
Spirit Exit feels like to me. The album gives off a distinct aura of loss and despair, as each reverberating synth brings forth pangs of grief and - most importantly - uncertainty. However, the most important part of opener “At Your Gamut” happens right at the end of the track: faint voices can be heard coloring the background, as robotic harmonies are consistently overtaken by the percussive keyboard stabs. Cut to the next track and these vocals now have much more prominence - but if you thought the established sense of melancholy would fade, think again. If anything, “Transfixed” is an even more desolate and slow-paced tune, as the pitch-shifted singing and minimalist keyboards help craft a beautifully dark soundscape. As for the vocals themselves, imagine if you took Imogen Heap’s famous “Hide and Seek” vocoder effects and made those the basis of an entire record. And believe me, Barbieri knows how to put this style to good use: the way she layers her voice creates the illusion of an otherworldly choir, almost as if you’re listening to a more futuristic version of an Enya record.
To get back to my original point, the interaction between the vocals and the uncanny electronic landscapes is a massive part of what makes this project so special.
Spirit Exit revels in its - and by extension, Barbieri’s - ability to make the singer-songwriter’s vocals mingle with the synths in a variety of interesting ways. Perhaps my favorite example of this comes in the form of the haunting ballad “Broken Melody”; the main instrumentation here is a wistful-sounding piano, as it lets out some of the most mournful melodies you can imagine. The singing, meanwhile, sounds more desperate and anguished than ever, with Barbieri uttering soft croons that really lend credence to the whole “marooned” narrative I fashioned earlier. What astounds me so much about
Spirit Exit, however, is that such a wholly electronic record can sound so
human. Much like Madonna’s landmark
Ray of Light or Bjork’s 90s masterpieces, this album is able to wring out some of the most powerful emotions through some of the most synthetic instrumental work. And somehow, I feel as though using more natural vocals would actually take away from how compelling the experience is.
On that note, things come to a head with the late-album highlight “Terminal Clock”. With this song, the typhoon has finally arrived, and the jarringly loud synths act as warning shots from the earth itself. It’s a fitting outcome for a record that explores such intense emotional territory, and really ties the experience up nicely. With
Spirit Exit Barbieri has created a near-perfect depiction of being stranded with no one around to save you. Even more strikingly, the record serves to illustrate anxiety and despair on a level that I haven’t heard in electronic music since
Kid A. Well, I suppose it’s time to say hi to Wilson and get ready for the upcoming storm… I don’t want to get swept away with the tide. But surely this will make for a beautiful soundtrack to go along with the tempest--.
