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IN STOCK
01. KHALIL - Trapper
02. KHALIL - Rest My Head Against A Wall Of Water
03. KHALIL - Gigds
04. KHALIL - Submit So Deep
05. KHALIL - Estate Straight Line
06. KHALIL - Herat
07. KHALIL - Always Wanted To Ride In A Place Like This
08. KHALIL - Natures Envy
09. KHALIL - Sculpture No Solid
10. KHALIL - The White Hoodie I Wear Because I Love You
ARTIST
TITLE
The Water We Drink
FORMAT
LP

LABEL
CATALOG #
PI 195LP PI 195LP
GENRE
RELEASE DATE
9/8/2017

The Water We Drink is the debut album from Khalil, a close confidante of Posh Isolation, and, naturally, a project close to the label's heart. With an iridescent shower of auto-tuned vocals and encrypted synthetic forms, Khalil presents a luminous route into a future of cadences pitched to a crushing intensity. As the new project of Nikolaj Vonsild, best known for his pop endeavors in the synth quartet When Saints Go Machine, as well as his acoustic duo Cancer, Khalil is his strongest vision to date. The collaborative platform for Vonsild's searing angelic and alien vocals is produced with Simon Formann, better known as Yen Towers and formerly of Lower, along with Villas Klint. With water, people feel differently. Indifferently of course, it approaches a sense of touch quite unlike any other matter or form. It slips and caresses, appealing to a sensuality so intuitive it barely registers beyond its immediacy. It's an urgency that always arrives. The ocean tells this through the shore; a perennial pleasure, a forgivable obsession. That the coast, its container, the edge of where people safely stand and where water waits, is a form just as much as it is a dissolving place, then considering a design such as that of an Evian natural spring water bottle amounts to staring at the stars. Thematically, Khalil draws constellations and cites emotive signals with this kind of deep union between form and touch. Finding perhaps a place undiscovered. Across The Water We Drink, the impulses of the romantic lyricism are diverted through artificial mechanisms and unnatural vocal terrains. Set against a melodic chorus of fractured pop, there is a certain sense in which the aching wane of Khalil feels like an ensemble of identities grasping for a form, as water may grasp for land. If there's reason to feel that bottled water is a portable piece of something greater than everything, then Khalil distributes high definition pop tropes with that same logic. The radio is an ocean, and Khalil's longing a hydrating force.