doris

Listening to doris feels like finding a box of water-damaged cassette tapes in an attic. The music is fundamentally built on the bones of folk and slowcore, but it has been eroded by digital processing and strange, beautiful errors. It is quiet, intimate, and deeply textural, often sounding as if it might fall apart under the weight of its own hiss and crackle.

What sets doris apart is the collision between the organic and the artificial. You might hear a delicately plucked acoustic guitar suddenly pitch-shift or stutter into a glitchy loop, or a whispered vocal that sounds like it was recorded through a long-distance phone line. It shares a DNA with the 'post-internet' folk scene, where the laptop is just as much an instrument as the guitar.

Start with 'Birthday Cards' to hear the project at its most cohesive. It is the perfect entry point for anyone who loves the vulnerability of lo-fi singer-songwriters but craves the sonic unpredictability of experimental electronic music.