• Drama

Connie Lansberg - Aeroplane

Connie Lansberg's Aeroplane doesn’t care about catching your attention immediately from the first note. It takes its time to slowly pull you into a world built almost entirely from voice, guitar, and silence. By the time it ends, you realise how rare it is to hear an album this comfortable with doing less but not sounding bare minimum too. Recorded in a single studio day after just one rehearsal, Aeroplane keeps things deliberately bare across eight original tracks. There’s no production hiding behind the performances and no attempt to smooth every edge. That approach only works if the musicians trust each other completely and Lansberg and guitarist Brad Rabuchin clearly do. Both musicians have insane chemistry and it shows. The title track, “Aeroplane”, introduces the album’s entire philosophy in one go. Stripped down and unguarded, it relies on instinct more than perfection. Lansberg’s vocals feel controlled without becoming distant, while Rabuchin’s guitar responds naturally instead of dominating the space. “Broken Doll” pushes the album into darker territory. Driven by bluesier guitar phrases and a sense of isolation, the song follows a girl who discovers a broken doll and tries to repair it. The image works as a metaphor for emotional wear, loneliness, and the urge to hold together things that have already changed. That mood continues into “Everything Ends Up In The River”. Lansberg delivers every line with restraint, letting the emotion sit underneath. “Heart of Stone” keeps the atmosphere heavy and thoughtful, adding another layer to the record’s emotionality. Then it shifts. “Starlight & Gold” brings brighter instrumentals but doesn’t fully escape the sadness underneath. Its lyrics follow the recurring girl figure as she reflects on giving up parts of herself for someone else. There is a clear contrast between lighter sounds and melancholic storytelling that makes the track dynamic. “The Way To You” returns to the quieter mood that defines much of the album. Rabuchin’s guitar work feels very loose but expressive here. It's full of gentle ornamentations that almost make the performance sound improvised in the moment. The closing track “You Don’t Know Me” leaves listeners sitting with the album’s emotions rather than a dramatic denouement. The whole record carries the same intimate and introspective energy that made a flick like We Live in Time feel so affecting. This album could soundtrack the movie perfectly. Read More

• 2026
• 29 min
• 8.5