Aspidistrafly had always quietly hovered in the realm of public consciousness. First emerging in 2003, the ambient folk duo comprising singer-songwriter/creative director April Lee and her partner and producer Ricks Ang gathered quite the cult following over the years with Lee’s hushed, feathery vocal melodies gliding atop hazy, guitar-based drone.
Containing nine tracks, Aspidistrafly’s long awaited third album Altar Of Dreams was released late last month.
This, in addition to the duo’s striking visual storytelling, weaves an ethereal multi-sensory tapestry that’s hard to come by – and judging from the decade it took for Altar Of Dreams’ release, may be just as hard to assemble.
After 10 years in the works – with tours, their marriage, Ang’s tinnitus diagnosis, and individual career progression wedged in between – Aspidistrafly is finally back. From the days of their preceding release A Little Fable (2011) lies a newfound clarity in their sound, their lo-fi haze cleared by the diaphanous ebb and flow of new age influences.
Ahead, we speak to the frontwoman on building the world of Altar of Dreams and what exactly can be found within it.
Altar of Dreams is finally out — your first album in a decade! How does it feel now that it’s released?
“It’s a fruit basket of all sorts of emotions – terribly relieved it is complete, majorly happy it was released before the world ended, and so grateful that fans and listeners have patiently waited for it.”
Which song in the track list was hardest to bring to life?
“Somehow, all the Track 2s in our albums take the longest time to perfect. It was the same for ‘Landscape With A Fairy’ in our second album A Little Fable and ‘The Voice of Flowers’ from the new album, which went through never-ending incarnations. It’s that feeling when you label your files “final.wav” and eventually “final_finalv100.wav”. Having said that, Track 2s are usually well-loved by our listeners, so I’m definitely proud that the hard work paid off.”
You’ve captured a rather niche younger audience of cottagecore enthusiasts online over the past few years even during the group’s hiatus. Did this fuel this release in any way?
“As I read tweets from fans (who had discovered our music during the cottagecore wave) lamenting about the then-inexistent third album, it gave me positive pressure to speed up completion of the new album. All the memes, prayer circles, TikTok and IG Reels did give me the strength to go on. I am always so thankful for that.”
What was the aesthetic framework you put in place to conceptualise the world of Altar of Dreams?
“Surprisingly as an INTJ (a Myers-Briggs personality type typically known for being analytical), I don’t really follow any methodology or structure when creating music and visuals. The only constant is that I tend to hoard inspiration, and this could come in the form of all sorts of collected memories, sounds, images and objects that may not be relevant now but maybe later. The opening track of the new album ‘How To Find A Marblewing’ was created around 2006 and was my first sound collage, assembled from chopped and screwed found sounds sampled from ‘90s J-pop, anime and other curiosities.”
It’s clear that worldbuilding is key to Aspidistrafly. Has it always been this way, and how important is it to the group and you as an artist?
“As a curious teenager, all my creative explorations happened simultaneously regardless of medium, so somehow my fascination with all things sound, imagery, beauty, scent (and all their rich history) bleeds into what I do. This has always been core to Aspidistrafly where sound and visual worlds are deeply connected.”
With that said, your visuals are always weaved in so seamlessly with your soundscapes. Which comes first in the process: visuals or the music?
“The narrative for an album is usually triggered from an experience, and then I’d go on to build the sound world. The image comes to me easily; sometimes it could be a texture or colour, but it rings clear in my mind as I’m working on the music and adding sonic layers.”
In your music videos for the album — The Voice of Flowers and Companion To Owls — you collaborate with old friends and longtime collaborators. How do they come about, and what’s it like working with people so dear?
“I remember being shaken by the Fukushima nuclear disaster in 2011 where at that time, we were travelling in and out of Japan. The safety of our friends and the impact on their immediate environment weighed heavily on my mind. Visiting my friend’s untainted hometown in Nagano (where there was barely anything but a blanket of a vast blue sky) was a profound experience for me because conversely, I grew up in a convoluted city. These are the feelings I wanted to capture in ‘The Voice Of Flowers’. Having my long-time friends be part of the music and film seemed only natural and made it even more meaningful.”
We noticed that Closet Children was among your collaborators for Companion To Owls, your most recent music video. How important is fashion to the Aspidistrafly narrative?
“It started from a young age, experimenting with clothing patterns, stacks of Nylon magazines in the 2000s, new wave and visual kei bands, club kids… I absorbed all of it like a sponge and it became part of my lifestyle. At the very same time, I was recording cassette tape demos in the bathroom, then assembling sound collages on my first PC. It was all part of the same adolescent creative experience. Years later I decided to focus on music and imagery as a career path while keeping my love for fashion as part of Aspidistrafly.
I was acquainted with Rachael Cheong of Closetchildren very randomly on social media (thank you Instagram algorithm). We then met at a chicken rice shop for the first time, and the rest is history. I always think of her as a long-lost younger sister who fulfils my fashion dream, thus she now makes my outfits and we go out to pet fat cats together.”
The video for Companion To Owls is such an intricate and intense composition of visual narratives. Could you share with us how intensive it was to shoot it?
“Thank you. I had a very clear picture in my mind of how the film was going to turn out (pictured above is her mood board), so it was important to work with a crew who would comprehend the same influences. Director and photographer duo Ivanho Harlim and Shysilia Novita understood the assignment, as we both share the same love for surrealists (the French photographer) Dora Maar, (American visual artist) Man Ray, (Soviet filmmaker) Andrei Tarkovsky. The work of (French photographer) Serge Lutens for Dior and Shiseido commercials in the ‘70s was also a big inspiration.
From there, I designed the set, props and storyboarded the film. Ivan and Shysilia were paramount to the final output, as many of the scenes were their creative ideas. A little piece of trivia — Rachael was on set for wardrobe and styling, and then Ivan had spontaneously suggested for her to appear in the film with her iconic black doll mask as a mysterious, sinister clone. I’m very thankful to have crossed paths with Ivan, Shysi and Rachael.”
You also collaborated with Japanese sound artist Sugai Ken, weaving in samples from local horror dramas in ‘Silk and Satins’. How important is your Singaporean identity in your music?
“In our first demo EP Children’s Haiku Garden we had secretly sampled playground sounds from the neighbourhood (we still live here and those screaming kids in the recording are already grown-a** adults). The photographs in our second EP The Ghost Of Things contains images of the Short Street apartment complex (where the present LaSalle College of the Arts stands) before it was demolished.
If you look up “Mystery” on Netflix you’ll find the horror drama that traumatised too many children in the ‘80s. They used to play them at 9pm on weekdays and were the final activity for me and my brother before we were sent to bed – not a good idea for kids. It’s nonetheless, to me, a cinematic masterpiece that I’m proud of as a Singaporean. Being curious and resourceful, we definitely dig deep into our surroundings and their rich history but having said that, we also see ourselves as part of a larger global community with our musical friends and collaborators from around the world.”
You’ve been active both in the Japan scene and locally. Have there been any observations you’ve made in the Singapore music scene based on your experience abroad?
“The world is huge and offers boundless inspiration and knowledge that we can never finish gleaning.”
How has your own career as a creative director informed you as an artist?
“Creative vision comes naturally to me, but managing projects, relationships and collaborations were the key learnings from my career as a creative director, and have become imperative also to my work as Aspidistrafly.”
And have you made any new revelations about yourself or your music through the album? Has a lot changed since your previous one?
“Making music has always been a private, behind-closed-doors activity for us, and it never really did occur that it could also bear a significance in someone else’s life. It was during the pandemic that I received a lot of messages from listeners (some of whom were going through depression) who said that our music gave them strength. I’m a lot more conscious that it has the ability to impact people positively.”