Felly has about a decade’s worth of output riffing on pop-rap under his belt, but you might not expect that to be the case based on his newest release, the patiently folky Ambroxyde. Recorded between Iceland, Greece, and Texas, the album’s title was actually inspired in that first location by national alt-rock heroes Sigur Rós—albeit by their foray into scent-making, first and foremost.
Listening to Ambroxyde, though, it’s also clear that Sigur Rós’ patient post-rock soundscapes played a role in the new direction Felly took with this record. Even more so, the artist shares with us that he aimed to strike a balance between the careful consideration of unique individual sounds heard across Radiohead’s discography and Fontaines D.C.’s blistering, organic, live-band feel (not to mention the undeniable chemistry of both artists, which came into play with Felly’s own debut recording with a full-band). On top of it all, Feist provided a heavy sense of inspiration if only in the “adult” feel the artist hopes to embrace as he nears his thirties.
With the album out today, Felly took us a bit deeper into more of the influences for his latest, most natural-sounding chapter. “Anything that felt like something someone was trying on, or wanted to be seen in a way, wasn’t really listened to during this journey,” he explains. Stream the record here, and read on below.
Feist, “I Feel It All”
Feist inspired me on this album so much. I never really played her for the band—I wasn’t like, “This is what we’re going for”—but it was something I found myself repeatedly listening to in my headphones. Something about listening to a middle-aged woman felt like such a break from anything I could reference for what I should be doing. She just carries this maturity and class to her sound that feels so natural, unforced, and honest. I often wish I could sing as a female vocalist, I think I’d be able to get across a lot of ideas that are in my head. There’s an atmosphere in a song like this that lets you dream when those keys come in. I think listening to songs that I couldn’t really emulate if I tried helped me to open up to possibilities of what I could do.
Fontaines D.C., “Favourite”
We listened to plenty of Fontaines while making this record. They just felt like one of the few bands of the time doing something that resonates. I loved how stripped back the recordings felt—super direct, organic, like [they only took] one vocal pass. Not doing too much but coming off fresh. They don’t feel over-edited or contrived, and I think with this record we placed a big importance on just capturing a performance and letting that be the song instead of trying to overanalyze or edit things. We ended up meeting the guitarist, Carlos, in Hydra super randomly at this low key bar by the water. He was such a nice guy. Invited us out to the show in LA. Amazing music and really important, I think, to me stepping into this world of playing with a band.
Sigur Rós, “Sæglópur”
I got hip to Sigur Rós while we were in Iceland. We spent a couple weeks out in Reykjavik and all over. We found ourselves at this perfumery started by the guys from Sigur Rós [editor’s note: more on that here]. This woman read us a poem while we smelled different notes that would make up a scent—it was so moving. I think this is where the idea of Ambroxyde, which was a candle/scent I’d burn throughout making the record, came to the forefront. We only have five senses and I think I spend a lot of time with my ears and listening, of course, but was surprised at how emotional and moving smells could be. Sigur Rós’ music and delicacy definitely inspired records like “Ambroxyde” and “Black Shoes.” Sort of this idea of letting subtleties do the talking—creating a space and atmosphere for listeners to dream and feel their own experiences rather than trying to cram a bunch of things in, spatially. I feel like that concept was revealed to me through smell—and through a lot of the Icelandic music I discovered, which was filled with a lot of minimal, moving soundscapes.
Yasuaki Shimizu, “Umi No Ue Kara”
Amazing record. I think we played this song on repeat for, like, three hours while looking at the moon on mushrooms. It was just like, “What is this! Play it again.” We just thought it was so genius. It’s this guy from Japan, made some time in the ’80s. Again, something super minimal with tons of space that just lets your mind roam and play. There’s a certain is-ness to songs like this where you can listen for eight minutes and not have anything to say, in a good way. Nature doesn’t really shout or yell, but it moves you, and I like music that does that.
Radiohead, “How to Disappear Completely”
A lot of Radiohead—listening, talking about, archiving—went into making this record. Probably more than any other band or influence on this list, to be honest. Luca [producer Gianluca Buccellati] sort of put me onto them in the early stages of making the record. I think he wanted me to really listen—I was somewhere in the space of, “Oh yeah, I know Radiohead,” but I didn’t really know know. I remember being in the sauna after a long day in the studio and Kid A was playing. Everyone had already left, so I was in there alone for probably 40 minutes, just melting under northern lights, seeping in Radiohead’s music. It was so eerie, layered, and beautiful. I took the deepest dive on this band throughout the year and it was all I was playing.
Radiohead, “15 Steps”
While these guys come off in a simplistic way, it’s actually so—almost secretly—intricate. I remember learning about how some of these songs were made and how much work went into finding, dialing sounds, taking years to get sounds right. But when you listen, it feels simple and easy. This idea sort of opened my mind to adding small production details where I saw fit and keeping my antenna open to the way things actually sound. It was the balance point to our desire to have performance-based recordings, but now keeping unique production backing it. How they made this song, if you look it up, is crazy. But yeah, I think a record like this showed me minimalism doesn’t always mean things being easy or being lazy, complacent. You have to dig.
Feist, “Honey Honey”
A song like this is a perfect example of minimal and intricate. Selectiveness, really. There’s only a couple things going on, but each part is so vast and packed with so much feeling. Feist, man…so cool.
Radiohead, “Give Up the Ghost”
Just a beautiful song. We eventually ended up sort of serendipitously working with a creative director, Dilly Gent, who had done stuff with Radiohead for a little over a decade. I just found it interesting that when you put your energy into a world or a sound, like I was doing with the Radiohead stuff, different characters and energies start to reveal themselves and align with you. Having Dilly come on board and being in love with the music meant a lot. It just sort of made me feel like, “OK, I’m not crazy or out of pocket by going this direction.”
Japanese Breakfast, “Road Head”
Driving music. Something to look out the window to and move your body to and appreciate life. More of a mirror of the world than a, “Look at me! Look at us! We’re cool!” Anything that felt like something someone was trying on, or wanted to be seen in a way, wasn’t really listened to during this journey.
Feist, “Mushaboom”
This song feels so adult to me. I think getting a little older, your idea of what’s fly changes—Feist can suddenly become the coolest thing to you. I’m 29, and growing a bit older has been weird in some ways, mostly because I’ve predicated so much of my life and records on this idea of being a kid, being young, innocent—permission to be an idiot. It’s really freeing, though, to hear what kind of more mature sounds you find yourself getting into as life goes on. I remember cooking eggs to this in Iceland, having a studio day ahead of me and pretty much everything I’ve dreamed of and just being like, “I actually really like my life and where I am.”
Melody’s Echo Chamber, “Some Time Alone, Alone”
Luca’s little brother Alessandro showed me this song. I think Kevin Parker produced this record. Again, just felt attracted to a floating female vocal and live production. Had a psych-rock feel in it, too, which I think I started to realize I wanted.
Creed, “One Last Breath”
For all the feminine energy in this playlist, this one’s the antithesis. I think we played this song going to and from lunch pretty much every day when we were finishing the album up in El Paso—six dudes in a car screaming this song over and over. Arrangement-wise I think it’s genius. Everything sits right where it needs to, and the vocal is so, so good. Another reminder that performance is everything, and that if the production is sitting right you have everything you need for an amazing song.
