This track is one of the intermission pieces. Cold modular synth pulses as the counter weight to the harp that was recorded with Margaret Hermant in my Brussels studio. He was looking for cold sounds, cold feelings, and this one really has the thread that weaves the soundtrack together. We had a warm bond with the director, a very open and direct dialogue, so we had to find a way to leave some of our classic AWVFTS emotional sounds at the door and go for some extra pace for a few of the bigger dance sequences, as this one had about eighteen people running around on stilts. So with all collaborations there are disagreements on certain matters, but we have learned to trust each other enough that despite our different personalities we can look at the big picture, and ultimately that is what can make a collaboration shine.ĥ. For example, Dustin originally felt this one sounded too much like Atomos VII, but I really found it unique enough to present to the director. I am beginning to recognize the fact that nothing is true. In the end we found a way to anchor it within the context of the sound of the record. On this particular occasion, and with the randomness of the sounds that were coming out of the machines, it led to something we were both quite pleased with. The song title sort of preceded the music in a sense, as we created some simple melodic palettes with some simple analog sounds. There is a lot of dialog in the performance, and this is one of the main pieces. I had read the book previously before meeting Leo, but his interpretation has left me with a better understanding of its importance. The book has depth and complexity in which the mirages of cities express the extremes of human experience: desire and despair, love and grief, birth and death. Leo Warner, the director, really had a hand on helping this one evolve emotionally-especially with the brass part, as it came last-as he told me specifically that this city in the book Beersheba needed to have this breath of light at the beginning. We recorded multiple layers of the choir in Budapest and ran the ostinato part through a simple modular set up and processed some phrases. Three simple layers on this one: Eight-piece choir, small brass section, and a modular. We would love to release a sample library of these sorts of things as, honestly, it feels as if I am forever creating new patches during recording cycles. It’s layers of different pianos played simply via a Native Instruments Kontakt sampler patch. We have been working on this patch since we first experimented with it on Atomos. We try all things and achieve what we can. Invisible Cities by A Winged Victory for the Sullen 1. Hear the soundtrack in full below, and read on for his commentary. It seemed necessary, then, to have Wiltzie step in and define those sounds which, as it turns out, range from felted piano, to garden mulch, to water cooler bottles. In spite of the spare sounds of their score, there are plenty of strange textures heard over the project’s distilled 45 minutes. With Invisible Cities, though, we’re finally gifted with a visual component to the duo’s evocative compositions, pairing their postmodern murmurs with strikingly apt visual spaces brought to life by dance. Dating back to his work with The Dead Texan and Stars of the Lid, Adam Wiltzie’s been constructing ominous, near-apocalyptic soundscapes pitting menacing drone against a more approachable ambient sound, which took a modern classical turn when he teamed up with pianist Dustin O’Halloran in the tail end of the 2000s to launch AWVFTS. The duo behind A Winged Victory for the Sullen have always been primed to soundtrack the type of bizarre stage production that is the industrial-set dance-and-visual-arts adaptation of the Italo Calvino novel Invisible Cities.
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