Drawing us in with a cerebral energy and an intricate piano performance featuring astral keys and brooding bass notes, FELD opens his album, Luster, with cinematic intrigue and a track called Bebe Marie. The subversive, textured synthscape builds into a whirring crescendo, akin to the wind or a solar storm. We appreciate the juxtaposition of the dramatic and the delicate instrumentation.
The opus evolves to evoke a high emotional quotient with a spiritual adjacency. Cosmic melodic textures intertwine with the more industrial nuances, building with avant-garde motifs to create an almost jarring frequency.
Haunting vocals emerge which almost feel like a horror movie, needless to say, we are in awe. The skin on our bodies is crawling, whilst growls ebb and flow with high piano notes to evoke a maximalist emotion. The rattle of snakes with almost demonic sounds creates an unforgettable opening track to the album.
This leads us to The Knell, which opens with a piano performance akin to a bell toll, with an industrial texture that feels like tripping into another dimension. We acknowledge the cohesive energy of this track, aligned with its predecessor. The album manifests as a seamless and consistent tapestry of sound – like the score to an A24 movie.
Static radio frequencies emerge, like a dystopian zombie reality. Once again, this feels brutal and scary – brilliantly executed to evoke sentiment from the listener. The more romantic piano motifs continue to give us that human feel, whilst the panning industrial vibes whir in the background.
Next up is Corridor, which opens with a haunting energy and a pulsating electronica build. Again, the delicate piano reassures us but also invites us to feel like something is coming. There is no doubt that this album would be a great score for a multitude of films, perhaps a Guillermo del Toro picture or something by Ti West. French prose emerges here whilst the more minimalist bass pulses and builds. The drama is enduring, it is the longest track on the album, which is aligned with its name, Corridor.
White Nights is another textured and dramatic masterpiece at first, although peace and romance emerge with the piano, serving as respite from the darker tones, although walking and breathing sounds, as if through the snow generate a sentiment of unease. This is one of the most visual pieces in the album and we truly feel like a narrative is being cemented here. It almost feels like a death scene with a body being dragged by the end of it.
We learn that FELD designs his universe intentionally to reimagine late romantic piano music as surreal, glitchy electronic pieces. He transforms old-world elegance into something darker, harsher, and laced with humour. Some tracks reinterpret the work of French composer Louis Vierne, whilst others are entirely original, but all of them flip neoclassical traditions on their head.
The artist, whose name is Marlon Feld, has spent his life exploring unconventional corners of music. His performances are equally unusual, combining a MIDI keyboard, a modified 1893 Blickensderfer typewriter, and expressive hand gestures. These can be viewed online here.
Illucid feels like the aftermath of a dark deed. The textures manifest as decomposition whilst the piano itself feels more meditative. The build however alludes to something darker, different, perhaps even a resurrection.
This brings us to Haunts, which sees one of the most dynamic piano performances on the record, but also the most ghostly electronica production. It’s scary and cerebral by the end with white noise as the concluding moments of the song.
The finale, Cathedral and Stars, gives us a sentiment of home, as if the storm has passed. Static radio interconnects with drama and signature motifs that reemerge from the previous six tracks. We feel lighter, almost like the trauma is still there, but now it is simply part of our reality, something that we accept. The darkness with the light. The final moments feel like a gothic Christmas, there are elements of classical joy through the radio frequencies, a reminder of reality as it once was, but through the lens of this new dimension.
Luster is available via Bandcamp, and will be on streaming platforms from April 15, 2026.
