Photo by Corey Wall
Origins is a recurring new music feature in which an artist charts the influence of their latest single.
Indie folk songwriter Kyle Wall has released three albums under his Wharfer moniker, most recently 2017’s Scenes of the Tourist. Now, just a little over a year later, his fourth LP is set to drop; it’s titled The Road Dissolved the View and is due out February 9th.
Spanning 11 tracks, the full-length was written, performed, recorded, and mixed by Wall himself from the comforts of his Brooklyn home. Wall, who is originally from Scranton, Pennsylvania, convened sessions throughout Spring and Summer 2017. Compared to its predecessors, The Road employs a different palette of sounds, with Wall this time opting for a “spacier, hazier terrain” of drum machines mixed with manipulated vocals.
To coincide with the album news, Wall has shared a single called “Lumière”. A stately yet moving piano-accompanied track, it finds him hazily reflecting, “I’ll always want to thank you for bleeding out my roots/ And when I’m draining out the old days, these songs will be the proof.” Check it out below.
The Road Dissolved The View Album Artwork:
The Road Dissolved The View Tracklist:
01. Drunk Behind The Wheel
02. To Alabama
03. Melt Down
04. Old Soul
06. I’ll Ride The Smoke
07. Deep Blue
08. The Road Dissolved The View
09. Wilt (For Adam)
10. The Hospital Choir
11. New Hyde Park
For our latest Origins feature, Wall told Consequence of Sound how Liz Harris/Grouper and the 1984 film Paris, Texas helped to inspire the making of “Lumière”.
Bing & Ruth — “City Lake/Tu Sei Uwe”:
I think David Moore’s music has been vital to my sanity over the last few years, and this tune covers a lot of ground. Besides being a sublime piece of music that’s exploring all kinds of different subtleties, it’s a masterclass in the transition from tiny to massive. I’ve been into a lot of “ambient”-ish music lately but haven’t found many songs in that genre that just blow up in the way this one does. I’m kind of obsessed with the feeling of being completely enveloped by noise and being snapped out of whatever lull or daydream I was in. I tried to make that happen to some degree in “Lumière”, though this is a much more patient, majestic, and less ominous variation of that.
Grouper — “Heavy Water/I’d Rather Be Sleeping”:
Liz Harris is one of a few artists who can create an entire world out of a song for me, with its own atmosphere and temperature and skyline. I’d even take it a step further and say that I feel like I’ve already been living in these songs when I hear them, and I never want to leave. The contrast of her beautiful and sneakily clever songs with production that’s often pretty raw gave me a lot of confidence to create music that’s blurry, rough and ambiguous — especially since I was handling the production of this one all on my own. I can never quite escape this song in particular, and her most recent album Ruins is a masterpiece of discipline and sparsity – just piano, vocals and a few atmospherics.
This grew into one of my all-time favorite films over the past year and it’s left a huge mark on the way I create. The way that it slowly, slowly, slowly fills in the backstory of events that led this man to wander through the desert alone, throughout the span of a few different road trips, is remarkable. You can’t fully appreciate it until your second viewing, when you watch knowing what this man has been through and the regret and pain that’s been clogging up his brain. The transition from extremely minimalist first section, where he’s not speaking at all, to the climax, which is him finally spilling the beans at length about these tortured memories he’s been carrying. The idea of slowly and selectively filling in the blanks really spoke to me, and I’ll forever be finding ways to draw inspiration from it.
Lewis — L’Amour:
I’ve been a nerd for this album for a while now, but it definitely played a part in some of the murky piano sounds on “Lumière” and the synths that float in and out around them. Someone dug this record from 1983 out of a bin. No one knew anything about this mysterious blonde, male model-looking guy save for some gossip and tall tales, but the music was unlike anything you’ve ever heard. Just like the most melancholy music imaginable, paired with this guy’s heartbreaking, indecipherable voice. I was so psyched that Light In The Attic caught wind of this and reissued it (along with the even more bonkers follow-up Romantic Times). It was cleaned up a bit, though part of me appreciated the vinyl scratches on the original.