Album Review: Étude by Attrition – A Sonic Kaleidoscope of Emotion and Experimentation
Let’s cut to the chase: Étude by Attrition is not your run-of-the-mill album. Released in 2001, this record feels like someone took a handful of genres—electronic, classical, pop/rock—and threw them into a blender set to "chaos." The result? Something that’s hard to pin down but impossible to forget. It’s experimental, it’s moody, and at times, it’s downright haunting. But hey, isn’t that what makes music worth listening to?
The UK-based band Attrition has always had a knack for blending styles, and on Étude, they really go all out. With labels like Sub Culture Records, Projekt, and SPV Poland backing them, you know this isn’t some half-baked effort. And with Franck Dematteis wearing so many hats (arranger, violinist, percussionist—you name it), the album feels meticulously crafted yet refreshingly raw. Martin Bowes deserves a shoutout too; his mixing, mastering, and remixing give the tracks an atmospheric depth that pulls you in.
Now, let me tell ya about two tracks that stuck with me long after the first listen:
First up is “Cold Genius (Sans Vox).” This one hits you like a cold wind on an empty street. There’s no voice here, just layers of sound that feel like shadows moving across a wall. The electronica vibes are strong, but there’s also this weirdly classical undertone—like if Bach decided to hang out in a goth club. Every time I hear it, I imagine myself walking through some abandoned city at night, where every echo tells its own story. It’s eerie, sure, but in the best way possible. You don’t just listen to “Cold Genius”—you feel it.
Then there’s “A Girl Called Harmony (Estranged).” Oh man, this track is something else. Julia Waller’s vocals float over the instrumentation like smoke curling upward, soft but full of weight. The melody builds slowly, almost teasing you, until it explodes into this lush mix of alternative rock and neo-classical drama. By the end, I’m left wondering how anyone could pack so much emotion into five minutes. Is it sad? Beautiful? Both? Honestly, I still can’t decide, and maybe that’s the point.
What strikes me most about Étude is how unpredictable it is. One moment you’re floating in dreamy ambient soundscapes (“Dreamsleep”), and the next you’re slammed with gritty electro beats (“Feel The Backlash”). It’s like Attrition doesn’t care about fitting into any box—and bless them for it. The artwork by Mark P. Lomax and design by Sam Rosenthal only add to the vibe, making the whole package feel cohesive yet delightfully off-kilter.
Here’s the thing: albums like Étude remind us why we fall in love with music in the first place. They challenge us, confuse us, and sometimes even scare us—but they never leave us indifferent. Listening to it feels like flipping through pages of someone’s diary, except instead of words, you get these vivid sonic snapshots.
So, would I recommend Étude? Absolutely. Just don’t expect easy answers or catchy hooks. This album demands your attention, and if you give it, you’ll be rewarded with something truly unique.
And now for my random thought: If Étude were a person, it’d probably wear black jeans, quote poetry, and stare wistfully out windows while sipping coffee. Weird flex, but I respect it.
