Music Perfect for a Saddening Flick at the Theater

Filled with features is Inflorescence, an EP that’s the latest release of famous producer and arranger Rob Moose, whose music’s probably been heard by all people, though they may not know it. He’s a wizard with the classical instruments and considering his past as co-founder of yMusic, the chamber ensemble based out of New York, rightly so. His skills as a string player are comparable to the work of a master puppeteer, because of the nuance of how he goes about playing every member of that family.  

Moose has collaborated with artists like Taylor Swift and even Eddie Vedder of Pearl Jam. Former collaborators make their way to Inflorescence, such as the woman as majestic as a phoenix, Phoebe Bridgers. No one has had quite the impact on Moose’s artistry as Brittany Howard however, her vocals speaking volumes on the EP’s first single, “I Bend but Never Break.” She sings with the same confidence as a seasoned pilot flying through the skies, the lyrics which she delivers are similar to lines of poetry written by the regal Maya Angelou. 

That said, the album opens in a funky manner. From square one, it should be obvious that violins, violas and the cello rule the collective sound throughout, which isn’t anything new to Moose. The aforementioned song is the starter here and on it do the aforementioned instruments screech, sob and adroitly mangle. Their respective presences crescendo up and down, and cascade down come the track’s ending, pouring from a high position as a waterfall does. There’s moderate distortion to Howard’s voice and certain segments of the song seem to have a whole choir behind them, their harmony like one belonging to a soulful church. 

Love and its endless fire is an overarching theme of Inflorescence. One track’s even called “Can Only Be Love,” its vocals calmly sung by Emily King, belong over a montage of stills from a sad movie. In that way, it’s cinematic, but so is every other song, all of them seemingly combining to tell a tale of tantalizing heartache. The engineering, it should be stated, goes above and beyond to be professionally and artfully berserk. The quirky, chirpy one-two punch of the violin and viola is like a twittering bird’s unending serenade, or, perhaps for some, an incredibly talkative someone. Maybe Moose is that person, his way of having his words heard being the instrumentations he puts together. 

“Marvel Room,” having the only man—Bon Iver’s Justin Vernon—besides the lurking, quiet Moose singing on it, is the odd track out; its addition only amplifies the melancholy of Inflorescence. His grunting and groaning are potent, making it feel like there’s more weight behind this particular piece. He goes on about trying to escape his fate, how he wants to beat something unwanted. 

Phoebe Bridgers finally arrives on “Wasted,” the longest of the bunch. Moose helped her reimagine old songs of hers on Copycat Killer, the EP she released during the pandemonium of 2020, as divine orchestral arrangements. Because he’s so adept at sailing the seas of music with total ease, his collaboration with Bridgers this time was timed perfectly. There’s more drama to everything through this song’s inclusion, as it could be appropriate for the background of a breakup scene in a flick about the romantics of young folk. A sadness sways her and her movements should mellow out listeners. 

“Extract” is the last to come and again, like its siblings, addresses an ingestion and then a digestion of love, multiplying the pain of all of Moose’s work here. Inflorescence is the most recent display of his reach as a music-maker; the depths of it are almost unreachable and it has no heights, as they can’t be measured at all. His poignancy alone allows him to exist outside of any parameters and the effect that that has will prove itself memorable.