“Hyperwide Lustre” is Orchestroll’s debut record, a mini-LP released on Montreal’s garmo – a highly curious and deeply devolved collection of music produced and performed for a run of live club sets by the duo. Jester-like, this is music that laughs at you: because it’s funny, because it’s not; because you did too much, because you did too little. Because you’re too loud; too quiet.
Wrapped in the exquisite production chops of Richard-Robitaille and Osborne-Lanthier, Hyperwide Lustre is quasi-sarcastic and fully irreverent, a shimmering hybrid of spectral dance music and avant classical; psychedelic, cinematic, fluid, and yet bejeweled with wry opulence. Lovelorn synths and haunted, clattering, percussion roll through these halls.
Like a labyrinth glimpsed beneath shifting sands, Orchestroll craft an album that feels both puzzling and oddly familiar. This is a realm of playful, idiosyncratic unease. Two puppetmasters who lost control of their puppets long ago. The keyboard whispers, but the mouse decides the tale.