Phosphene

Portland dream pop / shoegaze duo Phosphene just released their new single, "Jigsaw." The track is taken from an upcoming full-length, which will be out 9/15. 

The new album, Transmute, was written and recorded during various stages of the pandemic and the band's increased proximity to each other allowed them to expand their own creative boundaries. They experimented with synths and digital string arrangements for the first time, adding a layer of warmth to their propulsive rock songs. Within the weighty subject matter, they also pushed toward empathy—a transmutation of pain into human connection.

The walls close in on Phosphene’s third full-length album, Transmute.

Narrowing, however, isn’t always a negative. The Portland, Oregon, duo of Rachel Frankel and Matt Hemmerich wrote and recorded much of the record during various stages of the COVID-19 pandemic, when both worked and practiced from home. On one hand, their thoughts naturally drifted toward larger current events and existential anxieties. On the other, small spaces were often the coziest. Increased proximity allowed Phosphene to expand their own creative boundaries. They experimented with synths and digital string arrangements for the first time, adding a layer of warmth to their propulsive rock songs. Within the weighty subject matter, Phosphene pushed toward empathy—a transmutation of pain into human connection.

Frankel and Hemmerich reunited with close friend, engineer, and producer Greg Francis, who also engineered the band’s second full-length album, Lotus Eaters, to record Transmute at Brothers (Chinese) Recording studio in Oakland, California, last September.

“The making of this record together was—surprisingly—our most enjoyable to date,” Hemmerich said of finishing an album in a pandemic. “It allowed us to sit down and write new material, but also sift through the archives.” The result—a mix of new songs and tracks from among scores of demos and voice memos in the Phosphene vault—is the duo’s most adventurous work to date. Lead single, and second track, “Black Sheep” examines a life where depression is ever-present, like a dog trailing at your feet. “Laying on the floor, I felt it hold me/Never had control of this old friend,” Frankel sings as the drums cut out for an instant and her guitar rumbles underneath. Hemmerich took inspiration from artist Kaye Blegvad, whose “Dog Years” comic felt like an apt metaphor for his own mental health. “I had to learn to empower myself through self-love and excavation while understanding that depression is something I must manage,” he said.

Phosphene shifts their perspective outward as the album continues, moving from the personal on “Black Sheep” to the collective on fourth track “Jigsaw.” Digital string arrangements from collaborator Ryan Huff flow beneath arpeggiated guitar, giving more room for Frankel’s vocals to oscillate between doubt and determination. The band wrote the song at the height of pandemic isolation, as they ruminated on stories of loss and distance exacerbated by COVID-19. The mood takes a humorous turn on “Everyone is Gone,” as Phosphene details the tentacles of disinformation and cultural appropriation that have worked their way into every societal corner. Jade Eggs a la Gwyneth Paltrow, deepfakes of Barack Obama, and QAnon conspiracies all zoom past while Hemmerich keeps a beat just right for dancing. The critique takes a twist at the end, when the band expresses nostalgia for simpler times—if they ever even existed. “In love with another time/Where I hadn’t lost my mind/My last good high,” Frankel sings.

Transmute isn’t afraid to delve into the murkier parts of human existence, but Phosphene doesn’t want listeners to sink to the bottom. “It was essential that we could dive into the pain and grief of topics addressed on the album, while being able to come up for air,” Hemmerich said. Album closer “Wandering” offers a final breath, telling the story of a person who falls for someone they cross paths with on their way to the afterlife. “Will you keep me company/before we both black out,” Frankel asks, her voice soaring as if she’s ascending into the heavens. Clarity is elusive, but humanity will always have the final word.