Paris band conjures emotive indie masterpiece
With Vertical Life, Astral Bakers step out from the lingering haze of their debut and into something more quietly assured. The Paris-based foursome—Ambroise, Theodora, Nico, and Zoé—aren’t reinventing their sound so much as deepening it, carving out a space where imperfections aren’t polished away but folded gently into the fabric of the songs. There’s less concern with atmosphere for its own sake and more with how each part breathes inside the whole.
The record owes part of its pulse to Sam Evian’s production, which favours proximity over prettiness. Instruments sit close enough to catch the scrape of fingers on strings or the soft lurch of a late snare hit. Rather than feeling fragile, those human edges give the tracks an elastic tension—as if the music is stretching and settling in real time.
What’s most striking is the group’s refusal to foreground any one voice or instrument. Vocals thread through each piece like passing thoughts, overlapping or receding without hierarchy. The guitars no longer hover in a dreamlike wash; they flicker between restraint and bite, opening pockets of space that the rhythm section quietly occupies. Basslines act less like anchors and more like low-lit paths, guiding the songs forward without dictating their pace.
Thematically, Vertical Life lives in the in-between. Movement and stasis blur, with songs rising just enough to suggest urgency before sinking back into reflection. There’s an undercurrent of wanting to re-enter the world while still finding solace in retreat—a balancing act between lying flat and standing tall.
What makes the album compelling isn’t grandeur or emotional fireworks but the way it rewards stillness. It invites the listener not to drift away but to lean in, to note the textures that surface only when the volume of everything else is turned down. In that quiet, Astral Bakers find a voice that feels less like a statement and more like a shared breath.
