Les Halles

𝘼 𝙬𝙖𝙡𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙤𝙘𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚𝙙 𝙙𝙖𝙮𝙡𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩, 𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝙚𝙖𝙘𝙝 𝙣𝙤𝙩𝙚 𝙙𝙧𝙞𝙛𝙩𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙖𝙡𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙮 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙜𝙤𝙩𝙩𝙚𝙣 — Original Spirit by Les Halles is not a narrative, but a murmured presence, a kind of sonic vapor that speaks in suggestion rather than declaration.

Baptiste Martin’s latest album emerges from an intimate unraveling — one he alludes to in a personal, elliptical letter rather than dramatizing in song. What follows is music that dissolves structure and ego: glistening drones, spectral loops, faint memories of melody that shimmer just beyond reach. It's ambient as emotional cartography — not the map itself, but the faded pencil marks left behind.

There’s something eerily comforting here, as if you’ve stumbled into a space outside of time where grief and grace coexist in suspension. A music of inward motion, Original Spirit doesn't seek resolution. It simply allows space for stillness — and maybe, within that stillness, a sliver of light.