Meet Trinity Vigorsky

Photography by Jasmine Reiko
Styling by Jazzy Phillips

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?

Pennsylvania-born, Queens-based multi-instrumentalist, artist, producer, and vocalist Trinity Vigorsky pushes Eartheater through a seismic shift in her newest album Phoenix: Flames Are Dew Upon My Skin (PAN Records). Not so much of an otherworld, but a zone planted in our own, Eartheater involves a nature rarely seen, candid in its lush scarcity. A fiery collection of 21st century paeans and elegies, 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 change, Phoenix is Trinity’s rebirth, spanning a decade of planning and production. Before signing to PAN, Trinity released under her name and in collaboration with others on Hausu Mountain. Phoenix is a return to Eartheater solo; composed, produced, and arranged by Eartheater alone. Eartheater’s commitment to her own individuality and personal vision shines through her and her work with or without others setting her aside from reference; she is uniquely her own making. Trinity incorporates samples from the ethereal realm with clashing classical ensembles, roused by voice in tracks such as “Below The Clavicle” and “Volcano.” Each romantic, slow-burning pitch crystallizing into a visceral presence, coalescing into a gust of wind refreshing the unceasing magma—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. 

Hot and magnetic, Eartheater talks to SNUFF MAGAZINE on the toxicity of being untrue at the threshold of change, an ancient iceberg skidding across her mother’s farm, and the fear of infinity.

Eartheater shot by Jasmine Reiko. Styled by Jazzy Phillips.

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 lotof 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.

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 completely 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.
You don’t have a lot of bio on you, which I love, because you have to draw people inward to your music rather than just explaining everything. And like you were saying, open-endedness.

You don’t want to stop the possibility of different arrivals with your listeners and people who come into contact with you and your work. Your album bio inspired this question: PHOENIX is a re-contextualization. A killing, and rebirth in one stroke. How long has that been in the works, and what prompted the transference?

I think I was just processing my journey including everything that has happened in my last record. This has been brewing for a really long time inside me. When I was in high school that’s when I started playing guitar and writing songs. I’ve always loved that stripped-down acoustic, singer-songwriter stuff. I don’t think I was ready to show that part of myself. I remember listening to this voice inside me that was like “You can’t do that yet” then all of a sudden, now, I feel like I’m ready to show that part of myself. I had to go through a lot of different worlds... explore and traverse different things inside myself before I could get so vulnerable in the sound. I guess a way to say it is it’s very much about the past lives that we have within our life. And the things that we move through. My relationship with memory and my relationship with the different people that we grow into and have to even murder, to kill off these parts of ourselves to become stronger and wiser. And yet, very warrior themed in that way. This abstract feeling of embracing the seasons dying throughout your life and then the rebirth. It’s just like—I don’t mind sounding corny—but it’s a personal mythological thing that became very clear in my lyrics and then I had to follow that. It felt very healing and needed emotionally for my processing, looking back at everything. Also, cleansing myself for what I need to do in the future...



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