Loud Sounds 144
Anne Clainoire — I Can’t Breathe
“I Can’t Breathe” avoids the logic of a topical song, even though it was written in the first weeks of the 2020 lockdown, a moment thoroughly documented from every angle. Instead, it feels closer to a private ritual, later opened up to listeners.
The verses are hauntingly melodic, almost lulling, giving a sense of temporary comfort and space to breathe. That calm doesn’t last long: the choruses arrive abruptly and hit much harder, tightening the track instead of releasing it. The parts themselves are straightforward, the vocal melody simple and slightly repetitive, but that’s exactly why they work — they land directly and build the claustrophobic pressure the lyrics are circling around.
The video works in the same direction, pushing that pressure further. The silver-painted body reads as estrangement, isolation, and the loss of a familiar sense of self. Movement is minimal and deliberate, stripped of narrative, with repetition becoming the main gesture — echoing those lockdown days when limits existed not only in physical space, but in how far ahead it was possible to imagine the future.
“I Can’t Breathe” avoids the logic of a topical song, even though it was written in the first weeks of the 2020 lockdown, a moment thoroughly documented from every angle. Instead, it feels closer to a private ritual, later opened up to listeners.
The verses are hauntingly melodic, almost lulling, giving a sense of temporary comfort and space to breathe. That calm doesn’t last long: the choruses arrive abruptly and hit much harder, tightening the track instead of releasing it. The parts themselves are straightforward, the vocal melody simple and slightly repetitive, but that’s exactly why they work — they land directly and build the claustrophobic pressure the lyrics are circling around.
The video works in the same direction, pushing that pressure further. The silver-painted body reads as estrangement, isolation, and the loss of a familiar sense of self. Movement is minimal and deliberate, stripped of narrative, with repetition becoming the main gesture — echoing those lockdown days when limits existed not only in physical space, but in how far ahead it was possible to imagine the future.
Remedies – On My Mind
"On My Mind" is cinematic in a way that recalls Morricone’s Western soundtracks: guitars and strings echo like wide desert landscapes. The verses stretch out like empty plains, then the chorus snaps into a close-up with a super catchy, unforgettable melody. It’s like the song itself is cutting between long shots and tight frames, with the music carrying the story.
"On My Mind" is cinematic in a way that recalls Morricone’s Western soundtracks: guitars and strings echo like wide desert landscapes. The verses stretch out like empty plains, then the chorus snaps into a close-up with a super catchy, unforgettable melody. It’s like the song itself is cutting between long shots and tight frames, with the music carrying the story.
Check out more tracks from the duo.
Duce, TMPST, Idun Nicoline – Far Far Away
Deep and chill house god TMPST joins forces with past collaborator Idun Nicoline and melodic house/downtempo rising star Duce to create Far Far Away. The vocals are soft, like a gentle angelic touch, while the synth textures shift like clouds—sometimes gathering, sometimes dissolving, spilling down like sparkling snow that melts on your lips, leaving the sweetest aftertaste. The mix builds an almost unreal wall of sound, a space you can lose yourself in, like wandering through a vast, echoing cave.
Deep and chill house god TMPST joins forces with past collaborator Idun Nicoline and melodic house/downtempo rising star Duce to create Far Far Away. The vocals are soft, like a gentle angelic touch, while the synth textures shift like clouds—sometimes gathering, sometimes dissolving, spilling down like sparkling snow that melts on your lips, leaving the sweetest aftertaste. The mix builds an almost unreal wall of sound, a space you can lose yourself in, like wandering through a vast, echoing cave.
Check out more tracks from TMPST.