Circuit des Yeux
Halo on the Inside
MATADOR
Circuit des Yeux’s latest album Halo on the Inside begins as an ominous beckoning. The seedy bass line and alarming sci-fi synths paired with Haley Fohr’s deep, commanding vocals create the perfect soundtrack for a cryptic figure targeting a lover with a hex. But as you ease into its grandness and its darkness, Halo is more than just the sound of a menacing hunt. It embraces sinister, sexy synths and industrial beats that help excavate the thrill and terror of the human experience. It’s a doomy, neon-lit soundtrack that would make an even better score for a vampire tapping into the emotional memory of its former life—a sound threading together something epic, sentimental, and supernatural.
During its conception, Fohr drew inspiration from the Greek god Pan during a trip to Greece. Half goat, half human, the god of the wild is known for luring nymphs into dance with his flute made from reeds. The word “panic” is derived from Pan’s name, as his startling voice and presence would instill fear in anyone he encountered. Likewise, Fohr can be both alluring and terrifying of Halo. Pan is a god who often seems misunderstood, per a rudimentary google search, depicted either as a menacing figure or a victim of tragic circumstances. That being said, taking in the complicated totality of the Greek myth, Pan would fucking love Halo on the Inside.
“Show me the arches of your feet / Obliterated by street and heat,” Fohr sings on “Skeleton Key,” which opens with a whisper of pan flute. Fohr is an otherworldly guide amidst a Julee Cruise–esque atmosphere of pearly synths, vibrant piano, and foggy drum brushes. “We may stop along the way / Enter the room with your skeleton key,” she encourages confidently before her voice transforms into something more forceful, ominous: “Go on, take it off / And dance for me.” She elongates the word “dance” in a slithering tone like a snake stalking its prey. It’s scary, but also sensual. Halo is rich with these moments that emphasize a sacred duality—tapping into an innate improvised language with nonsensical lyrics on “Truth,” or the glorious build of druidian singing on “Cathexis.”
But this cinematic electronic shift is more than a spectacle of smoke and mirrors. Fohr combines mythology with subconscious revelations on these recordings, embedding each song with a certain tenderness that peels back layers of self-awareness. Halo on the Inside isn’t afraid to find beauty in the carnal alongside the abstract, the ugly or incomprehensible abyss. The result is a balance of Fohr’s commanding pathos as a guide through tracks that feel like a series of trials toward a higher version of the self, an ethos that speaks of the thrill and hardship of living in a body.
