There’s something contradictory about Black Fly’s music.
Described as soaring and cinematic, the reality of Black Fly’s 01 is far quainter and more understated. Comprised mostly of grungy basslines and echoing kick drums, the instruments usually acquainted with the tagline “cinematic” come in brief flashes, weighted down by morose vocals, dark lyrics and a sombre but engaging outlook on life.
Based in Vermont, the backdrop of Joseph Rittling’s world is evident in the music he produces. Again, however, it’s contradictory. Soaring and serene synths feel large like the landscape they’re inspired by, but they also feel like they could well have been created in a grungy rented garage.
I guess this could be indicative of what Rittling is trying to achieve. Whilst the melodies might be inspired by Vermont’s luscious landscapes, the world behind them is dark and sorrowful. Take the video for “Sign 2”. A lone man goes from place to place, dancing to the groove, feeling the music. But the beauty on show is altered to the state of joylessness. The scenery is shadowed by a mono feature, the man’s face and features are covered by white bandage. Everything is stripped down to the bare crux of the song, until the emotion of what we’re watching is almost entirely hidden.
Perhaps the message of this is to encourage the listener to see beyond the surface of things. When we think of something cinematic, we often imagine vast sounds, stunning horizons, greens, blues, happiness, sadness. Every scene and every emotion in their grandest of forms. But the world isn’t like that. Sometimes big things can seem a little smaller to someone experiencing heartache, depression, or the feeling of going backwards whilst the world around you moves on.
With 01, Black Fly has created something a little smaller. There’s a melancholy to this album that can be seen as bleak, but to think of it as anything other than cinematic would be wrong. Whilst the world is dark and the lyrics are darker, Black Fly still manages to create things to hold onto. A piano line, a synth drop, a saxophone that builds into a grand finale. The music soars in its own unique way and despite its shadowed scenery, its bandaged emotions, he shows that it’s possible to dance to the world he’s created.
It’s hard to dance to something bleak, so perhaps bleakness is a surface we have to look past too. There’s undeniably something colorful in the depths of this album. Hidden, maybe, but enough to spur the soul and create beauty in its own right. If that’s not cinematic, I don’t know what is.
