Meet Trinity Vigorsky
aka Eartheater



Trinity Vigorsky via Zoom. Photography by Jasmine Reiko

Is the mind like a fluid—magmatic, flowing?
Does it hold our bones together while we ready for another self to adhere?
To trans-form and slowly come to embody what change is necessary?

through a seismic shift in her new album Phoenix: Flames Are Dew Upon My Skin). Not so much of an otherworld, but a zone planted in our own, Eartheater involves a nature less seen and candid in its lush scarcity. A collection of 21st century devotions consistent with the crisis of identity-making: what is fluidity to transformation? Vulnerability to shaping? A soft, young rock experimenting with form.

Materializing from the fact of apprehension in change, Phoenix is Trinity’s reawakening spanning a decade’s time of planning and production. Previously working intimately on solo pieces to arrangements for accompanying instruments to a medley of features and collaborations, Phoenix is a return to solo created and produced by Eartheater alone. At the bridge between mystical and digital dissonance, Trinity incorporates acoustic gentleness with anomalous classical instrumentals roused by lone vocals echoed in tracks “Below The Clavicle” and “Volcano.” Each romantic, slow-burning pitch crystallizing and viscerally present. Eartheater unveils the electronic and what is beneath? Molten rock extruding from a young volcano under pressure; new land in action. Time is a sonic landform and Eartheater traces the fissures back to the surface.

on toxicity in being untrue at the threshold of change, an ancient iceberg skidding her mother’s farm, and the fear of infinity.



You just came back from an island?
Yeah, my friend had her birthday party on this very special island in the middle of the Hudson River. There were Lenape Ruins there and Aleister Crowley lived there forty days and forty nights. It is a very sacred place.

How would you describe Eartheater to people that never confronted you before?
I have these conversations with people that don’t know my music and I have to describe it in some way. I usually just say it’s dictated by a feeling first, y’know. And it’s that feeling that has then enabled me to learn a lot of different styles and techniques, skills because I’ll have a feeling and I’ll need to capture it and that’s forced me to be pretty adaptable. It’s just about an emotion first. An inescapable thing you have to get down.


All clothing Vigorsky’s own (worn throughout).

And who is Trinity Vigorsky?
To be honest, I love the name Trinity and I love aliases. Whenever I order food I always give different names, I like trying them on. It’s about open-endedness. Really being open up to experiential fantasy. For instance, putting on the name Trinity...I think there is a lot of power in naming things. A song is not really finished for me until I name it. Then it adds a sort of fantasy to it—it projects an image in your mind that you then have to occupy. Trinity is also just...too many people knew my actual name and it would really bug me out. I would get confused as to how they knew me or how I knew them, or if I knew them. And I feel like people took advantage of that sometimes by yelling my name at a bar and coming up to me and trying to talk to me. I’m trying to get journalists to not use my legal name because it just gets really difficult sometimes. Now when people yell Trinity it’s like from Instagram or something. I can organize the chaos a little more that way. Vigorsky. I’m Russian, so it sounds like a Russian name but it’s also two names together as well.

How was the shift from working with a bunch of people to your independent work on Phoenix?
I wrote and composed everything with Phoenix so there was a lot of solitary time. As it goes with chamber and classical music, I needed to have players to play that stuff. I was still in the studio with others a lot. Both of those records weren’t completely solitary. I was bossy with both, trust! With Phoenix, I was controlling every element. With Trinity, I pretty much sat down and produced most of those songs with the producers. I was there and I wrote majority of the synth lines and created most of the samples myself. Those last two records were way more involved with other people. My first records were pretty much solitary, I was all alone.

How was it working alone then working with others?
It’s lovely, it’s a dream. It just happened very naturally. They’re my friends. These producers are just people I’m hanging out with every day anyway. We all live within a ten-block radius from each other and so we started working on that stuff, like making those instruments fucked up at 6 AM, lol. It materialized out of thin air. It just was really fun in a different way, like more social and just hype.

All in Queens?
Right on the border of Queen’s and Brooklyn...





Jazzy Phillips


 













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