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Sarah Lipstate

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Noveller, “Aphantasia” (Self-Released, 2021)

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Sarah Lipstate’s latest opus enigmatically borrows its title from a disorder in which those afflicted lose the ability to create mental imagery and associations (it literally translates as “without imagination”). If there is a polar opposite of that disorder, there is a strong probability that Lipstate has it, as Aphantasia is an absolute tour de force of imaginative, vividly realized visions. 

In fact, there are twenty-two such self-contained visions on the album and very few of them stretch beyond a minute or two in length. That can be a bit exasperating at times, as the most wonderful ideas are often some of the most ephemeral, but the sheer volume of killer motifs on display could have been the framework for four albums of great fully formed songs rather than one dazzling array of brief vignettes. That unusual album structure was entirely by design, of course, as Lipstate viewed each song as a “a short sharp flash,” further noting that “if her usual process brought about cinematic results, these were something new—something swift and intriguing.” 

The “something new” is that the album is intended as something akin to a poetry collection, and it succeeds admirably in that light while still remaining extremely damn cinematic regardless. The fragmentary nature of this album will likely garner a somewhat polarized response from fans, but I doubt that anyone will question whether Lipstate is at the height of her creative powers right now.

The best way to view Aphantasia is as an impressionist funhouse in which each door reveals a fleeting glimpse of something wonderful (or disturbing) that quickly dissolves to make way for the next vision. The darkest vignettes mostly arrive early on, as “Rune (for Silent Guitar)” feels like the soundtrack to a psychedelic folk horror film, while smeared and curdled synth tones of “A Valley of Snakes” call to mind a lurid, art-damaged giallo classic. 

Elsewhere, the more substantial “The Haunted Man” feels like a great post-rock band adding quietly smoldering accompaniment to an eerily lit Dario Argento film. The darkness resurfaces a few more times near end of the album as well, as “The Gatherer” feels like a creepy, feedback-ravaged faerie tale, while “Night/Heist” briefly resembles a nightmarishly Lynchian rockabilly band. 

In between and around those more haunted moments, the remaining seventeen songs are like a highlight reel of imaginary dreampop, 4AD, and goth-rock classics from the late ’80s and early ’90s (though they seldom make it very far beyond the opening hook). The best pieces sound like Lipstate channeled some beloved band from the shoegaze/dreampop golden age, made some sort of ingenious and welcome improvement, isolated the best part, then quickly moved onto the next challenge. 

In “to love / dream you,” for example, she evokes a more tender and burbling Lovesliescrushing, then later repeats that same feat even more impressively with “Annalemma.” Elsewhere, “Vanishing” sounds like the achingly gorgeous coda of an imagined Slowdive masterpiece, while “33” feels like a glimpse of an absolutely sublime lost Durutti Column classic. 

At other times, Lipstate conjures a more psych-minded Bauhaus or Santo & Johnny lost in a phantasmagoric fever dream. Throughout it all, she unleashes a characteristically dazzling host of killer effects and cool textures. I expected that part, obviously, but did not expect her to casually toss off so many gorgeous melodic themes as well. Admittedly, part of me wishes there was at least one perfect, fully realized single akin to “Deep Shelter” here, but the sheer volume of great ideas on display makes for a wonderfully kaleidoscopic and immersive whole.

Samples can be found here.

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Noveller, “No Dreams” (Important, 2013)

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When she is at her best, Brooklyn-based experimental guitarist Sarah Lipstate is capable of creating work of almost breathtaking beauty. On this, her debut for Important, she is at her best exactly once. The rest of album is filled with perfectly likable, if unexceptional, forays into muted ambient soundscapes, but it is the Popul Vuh’s Aguirre-meets-gnarled-guitar brilliance of the title piece that makes No Dreams an album worth hearing. I certainly wish the rest of the album were similarly spectacular, but it feels silly to complain that Lipstate only composed one must-hear masterpiece this year.

Several years ago, when I was still an aspiring musician, I tried to record an album that I never finished. The problem was that every time I composed a new song, it made all of my previous songs seem comparatively inadequate, so I just kept endlessly starting over again with an increasingly unattainable baseline of quality. The reason I bring that up is because Lipstate seems to have encountered the exact same problem with No Dreams, but solved it by just putting out everything she had anyway. 

That is certainly a much more productive option than total, heartbreaking creative paralysis, but it means that No Dreams is essentially one sublime, stunning piece and a lot of vaguely pleasant (or sometimes ominous) ambient background. “No Dreams” is not just a centerpiece or highlight; rather, it feels like the entire album’s sole reason for existing.

At least, that is how it sounds at a normal volume. When I play it loudly, No Dreams becomes significantly more compelling, as all of its many complexities and nuances come into sharper focus. Given the proper volume and attentive listening, songs like the throbbing “Manahatta,” the slow-burning, roiling “Purchase,” and warmly hissing and swelling “Fighting Sleep” all sound nearly as inspired as the title track. 

I guess that makes No Dreams a good headphone album and explains how it wound up as one of The New Yorker‘s Best Albums of 2013, but I truly wish Lipstate had not smoothed everything over into a gently pulsing and shimmering bliss-haze. The edges and quirks are what make Noveller unique and they rarely surface here, aside from the overdriven guitar howl of “No Dreams” and a few textures amidst the creepy dissonance of “The Fright.”

Ultimately, No Dreams is a curious moment in Noveller’s discography, as it arguably contains the single greatest piece she has ever recorded, but otherwise feels like a transitional effort. There are a few reasons for that, as Sarah has broadened her palette beyond guitar for the first time ever to embrace synthesizers, pianos, and muted beats. Also, she has spent a lot of time working on soundtracks recently, which seems to have influenced her work enormously. 

In fact, most of No Dreams would probably be an excellent soundtrack, as it evokes depth and mood without ever demanding my full attention. That is not what I want from a Noveller album though. No Dreams is like going to a renowned steak house and getting a salad—it might be a very good salad, but it kind of defeats the whole purpose of going there. Stone-cold masterpiece title track and compositional evolution aside, I would have liked this album much, much more if it had been more forcefully and uniquely “Sarah Lipstate.”

Listen here.