PRESS RELEASE

I'm sharing Stretched Fabric, an album I composed in just two nights in New York. It’s instrumental — no lyrics — but it tells stories, clearly. Each track feels like a painting.

Like my previous EP Maschine Reh, composed in Austria, this album reflects my European anxieties. But here, they’re confronted by something else: the raw energy — and the hope — of New York. You can hear the city’s harshness in Barefoot in Brooklyn, a tribute to a homeless man I saw walking barefoot on the concrete. You might sense a softer moment in R.I.P. Goldberg, where something opens up — like a breath.

If you connect with raw, loop-heavy beats — the kind of texture you find in Westside Gunn’s work — you’ll get this record. There’s tension. There’s pulse. And, as in all my projects, the sound is purposefully worn down. Most elements were processed through a Leslie Speaker, giving the whole album that dusty, warped texture — like a cassette pulled out of a box after twenty years. I like that kind of distortion.

Stretched Fabric isn’t smooth or polished. It’s tense. It’s stained. It’s alive.

Sincerely,

David Jacques