Kelly Moran treats the piano as an object to be transformed. The New York musician wrings metallic beats from his strings and erases each note in sustain, until the instrument loses its indicative form and transforms into something psychedelic and dreamlike. She established her dream-like style with 2017 Bloodroot and extended it further in 2018's outstanding Ultraviolet, in which fuzz-coated melodies zoomed in and out like the patterns of a kaleidoscope. With Movements in the Field, strips her music bare. Working with a ready-made piano, he recorded the new album on a Yamaha Disklavier, a digital descendant of the piano. While she continues to explore the furthest reaches of her instrument, this time she turns inward, writing intricate melodies that evoke a sense of inner space.
Moran began working with the Disklavier in early 2020, when Yamaha lent her one to try out while working on a track with composer Missy Mazzoli. The machine, known for its technical precision, taught her something unexpected: how to find emotional intensity in softness. She began her compositions by playing looping melodies on the organ, then stepped away and played them, listening to find room for kindness. Finally, she played in real time alongside these recordings, placing her fluid performance above the Disklavier's precise reproduction. The results are more complicated than she could play alone. The Disklavier allowed her to create layers and patterns that transcend the physical limitations of the most talented human pianist. But despite these complex techniques, Moran's music feels anything but demanding. Instead, he lets the warmth ring out, finding sweetness within rapid-fire arpeggios that facilitate the instrument.
Moran's music unfolds gradually over the course of the melodies that inspire her unhurriedly and like running up a hill, evoking the quick twirls and grace of the skaters who inspire her. Much of Moran's music relies on technical prowess, but still finds room for levity. Opener “Butterfly Phase” brings to the fore undulating, up-tempo phrases that intertwine like the threads of a spider's web. on “Superhuman,” he weaves together shimmering melodies that ripple up and down the scale, while a brooding melody simmers beneath.
Although repetition and precision are at the core of her music, Moran focuses less on interlocking rhythmic patterns and more on crafting sweeping melodies from short phrases that evolve over time. “Dancer Polynomials,” one of the album's most detailed tracks, weaves together a lively, gentle melody churning over a bed of low-key brooding. These two lines feel like they're at odds—one airy, one heavy—but they grow together and in the end, swirl into an intoxicating union. Album highlight 'Sodalis II' balances the emotion and technique that drive Moran's music. The piece develops from a measured phrase and unfolds into a deep, sonorous meditation, informed by Moran's increasing emphasis on each downbeat and the short pauses she takes before rolling a chord. As the music crescendoes, it encircles its core with fast riffs until all the melodies collapse, leaving a palpable sense of catharsis.
