When a rarity blew up on TikTok, the solitary ambient artist had fraudsters trying to steal her royalties. It reinforced her DIY mentality \u2013 until reforming her band Helen reminded her of the beauty of collaboration<\/p>\n
In mid-September, I watched as Liz Harris soundchecked to 1,500 empty seats at midtown Manhattan\u2019s historic Town Hall theatre. Soon each plush red chair would be filled for the second of two sold-out nights, but this ornate seclusion felt oddly perfect. It is fair to infer that most of her concertgoers generally listen to the uncanny experimental music she makes as Grouper alone, just as she creates it.<\/p>\n
Harris started Grouper in 2005 in the DIY noise warehouses of Oakland, California. At 46, she now lives farther north, in coastal Astoria, Oregon, where she creates densely tessellated visual art and spare, lucid albums that have made her a titan of modern ambient music. Painfully beautiful and often inscrutable, hers is a sonic language all its own, creating <\/strong>thickets of sound using little more than guitar or piano, voice and space; her angelic and alien songs have influenced artists as disparate as Phoebe Bridgers<\/a> and Mk.gee<\/a>, and been sampled by Lil B and 100 Gecs. It is intensely solitary work, often characterised as sad but full of profound relief. \u201cLike a bloodletting,\u201d Harris offers.<\/p>\n
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