- The Canadian-American sound collagist pairs idyllic soundscapes with sincere, emo-influenced Autotuned vocal performances.
- claire rousay has an expansive definition of emo. She's capable of evoking the cathartic feelings of her alt-rock idols—like Pedro the Lion or Casiotone for the Painfully Alone—with experimental electroacoustic techniques and her trusty handheld field recorder. Her compositions grapple with the discomfort of coming of age, gender identity and self-perception. rousay approaches her music like a quiltmaker. Whether through serene drones, iMessage notifications, late-night function chatter or the clang of dropped cutlery, she has a knack for stitching it all together with few loose ends. She's become somewhat of an experimental music poster child by democratizing styles like field recordings and sound collages, which may seem daunting to new listeners. sentiment leans heavily into this, finding a middle ground between often structureless musique concrète and DIY pop tunes.
rousay's 2022 collaborative album with more eaze, never stop texting me, played with Autotuned vocals, cheekily embracing the lively hyperpop banter we love 100 gecs for. On sentiment, rousay's processed voice isn't as frisky. She sounds contemplative, maybe even a little scared of herself. Take "lover's spit plays in the background." Typical flourishes that would usually be suited for AutoTune are traded for a nervous, standoffish indie rock delivery. rousay's voice thickens with the effects, and she comes off as burdened, taking up much more space than only her raw voice would allow. It's a staggering switch-up from her previous work, but it feels natural in the context of an album that wrestles with emotional baggage.
On sentiment, rousay feels trapped in every action she's destined to make. She details the immeasurable weight of a toxic relationship on "head." Accompanying a warm guitar riff, her AutoTuned voice croons, "Spending half of my whole life giving you head / Just in case you need to forgive me / One day for something that I did." She comes off as equally playful and morbid, as if she's hesitant to fully accept the severity of the situation. Erratic string plucks dance around a bass-heavy drone, mimicking her behavior of avoidance. Nevertheless, she's aware of where she went wrong. On "asking for it," rousay sings wearily, resigned to always shed her old skin. "Imma fuck things up anyway" is delivered a few times throughout the track, with rousay's words dragging and fading into cycles of repetition. A guitar line routinely rocks back and forth, carrying her words to the finish line. Through the use of pop song structures, rousay turns her misguided thought patterns into an impassioned performance.
sentiment is most headstrong when it sticks to the narratives and soundscapes rousay is best known for. "4pm" highlights the gut wrenching vulnerability of ambient artist Theodore Cale Schafer, who delivers a spoken-word piece that gets enveloped by camera shutters and beeps reminiscent of an EKG machine. rousay's vision as an emo composer is clearest here, and Schafer's note about his hardships strikes deepest when placed against a sound many hear as their last. Snippets of restaurant conversations about comfort meals drive the short "w sunset blvd," a brief reminder of the little things that rousay finds pleasure in. The easygoing chatter sits tastefully on a project where rousay often sounds self-deprecating. "sycamore skylight" features bird chirps and flowing creek roars that expand and unfold similarly to other rousay pieces. Her energising flair serves as a reminder that holding on to the environment around us can be a way to ground ourselves, even when reality seems always on the brink of falling apart.
Tracklist01. 4pm
02. head
03. it could be anything
04. asking for it
05. iii
06. lover's spit plays in the background
07. sycamore skylight
08. please 5 more minutes feat. Lala Lala
09. w sunset blvd
10. ily2 feat. Hand Habits