quête:resisting routine

LIMITED VINYL COMES IN CARDBOARD SLEEVE WITH BOOKLET!
OSTRANENIE is a collection of digitally manipulated, impressionistic piano miniatures — each named after blockbuster films and TV series. Improvised late at night as a reaction against passive media consumption, these pieces function as both homage and critique, navigating the space between classical impressionism and contemporary digital manipulation. They don’t just deconstruct traditional piano expression; they interrogate the emotional stakes of sound in an era where immersion culture flattens meaning and algorithmic logic erodes agency.

The album’s title references the Russian formalist Viktor Shklovsky’s concept of “ostranenie” (ɐstrɐˈnjenjɪj, estrangement/defamiliarization), a term he introduced in the early 1920s to describe art’s role in resisting the indifference of habitual perception.

“And so, held accountable for nothing, life fades into nothingness. Automation eats away at things, at clothes, at furniture, at our wives, and at our fear of war.”
—Viktor Shklovsky, Theory of Prose (1925)

Shklovsky saw art as a way to break through the anesthetizing effects of routine, stripping away the layers of habit that dull our senses. By making the familiar strange, art reclaims perception from the mechanical and the automatic. His argument wasn’t just a theoretical exercise — it was a response to a world rapidly consumed by industrialization, war machines, and the alienation of a technologically dominated modern life. In this context, he positioned artistic technique as something autonomous, distinct from mere social criticism or psychological reflection. Art seeks to remove “...the crust that the world of things deposits on our senses, with routine’s unending murder of the real.” Ben Ehrenreich on Serena Vitale’s Making Strange (The Nation, 2013)

This tension—between revolutionary/artistic and industrial technologies—defined the 20th century, and it continues to resonate today. The mechanization and automation that fueled the First World War’s devastation, alongside the social and economic turbulence of the 1920s, became central to the era’s self-conception. But just as technology was a source of alienation, it was also positioned as an agent of radical change. As the shock of modernity disrupted the human condition, it also became the driving force behind an ideological utopia — one that ultimately deformed into political totalitarianism — a paradox that remains unresolved.

OSTRANENIE plays within this contradiction. The music shifts seamlessly between an uncanny black MIDI dismantling of traditional piano virtuosity and moments of raw, fragile intimacy. The result is a work that resists automatic anonymity while questioning what it means to create in an era where the technological mediation of sound — and experience itself — is unavoidable: Art in the age of its technological constructedness.

As most of us now live in a world saturated with information, this album feels like a reflection of how the modern world might sound if it were to process its own chaos through a unified scream. Hailing from the highlands of Bandung, West Java, a city where tradition and modernization intertwine in the rhythm of daily life, Xin Lie unpretentiously translates this cultural fusion into a sonically rich and rhythmically bold debut LP.

The artist’s roots in the hardcore and punk scenes reverberate throughout the album, though they’ve been reshaped and refined for the club. There’s an undeniable pleasure in experiencing the chaos Xin Lie channels—irregular beats, dynamic frequencies, and disjointed grooves collide and expand, each track laced with a sense of unpredictable energy. Yet even in its most chaotic moments, the music feels deliberate, its edges softened by a sense of compositional care.

The album reveals a strange duality: tracks that seem to beckon you to the dance floor but never quite let you settle there. Frequencies flicker and fluctuate in patterns that feel just slightly off-grid, as though resisting traditional structures. Yet, amidst the digital textures, Xin Lie weaves in organic sounds—snippets of native conversations or environmental noise—creating layers that feel both intimate and expansive.It’s fair to say this album extends far beyond the boundaries of today’s club music.

Picture this: you’re moving through your daily routines—mundane, repetitive—and suddenly, the music shifts your perspective. It reframes the ordinary as something surreal, as though it’s deconstructing itself in real-time, breaking into fragments or conjuring entirely new forms. Perhaps it’s best imagined as the soundtrack to a multi-sensory art installation or a performance staged not in a gallery but in an unassuming house down your street. Who’s to say where it might take you?