Created in these isolated periods of time, where Ouri lived more boldly in between, a tension arises from this album that feels both intimate and insurgent. 

How wind can activate the sense of touch, how a glimpse of an eye says more than a sustained gaze, how the sharpness of an object can be reassuring while proving to be a real threat at the same time. Sweeping force and precise gestures to let truth emerge. 

Sonically, Daisy Cutter is both gritty and crystalline. Ouri keeps the textures of the real world intact – the noise of the room, the grain of the voice, the imperfection of pitch – while weaving harp, cello, and piano into synths, granular self-sampling, and digital processing. The result resists genre, carving a hybrid imprint that is clear though distorted, embodied though virtual, intimate though epic.