Glink! A rare stone dropped in the ocean. It sinks away from the light, and its gleam begins to wane, it darkens against the depth.  Sinking into vastness, it looks almost like outer space, it could be floating, to the ocean's ceiling floor. Here, there is no rising, there is no sinking, they are the same, growing and dying look identical.
Gem Club exists in this space. They float up to floors and live until the day they're born. Gem Club is music, made by Christopher Barnes and his collaborators, cellist Kristen Drymala, and vocalist Ieva Berberian. Currently, they live in Massachusetts.
Following their self-released six-song EP, Acid  and  Everything,  Gem Club  have made  Breakers,  a  debut  full-length  released  through  Hardly  Art.  If the album were a place, it would be home, strewn remnants of a party. If it were a color, it would be deep, rich, and full. If it were a glance, most definitely goodbye.
Breakers is like a story that finds myth in the mundane.  Like finding a tape, under a tree, before it's about to rain. The tape is marked with a muddied label: "STYX (the river, not the band)" and when it plays, the piano seems to whisper, to speak, to cry. No matter how low the volume is set, it plays loud.  It rings like church bells, it sings like angels, it hums like heaven, and it's the beginning of a journey, in water.
Breakers seems to wander, rowed slowly on a passage, secreting a message it only half-understands. Amidst the fog, however, the dim lanterns, and the specters on the banks, Gem Club maintains a clear vision, a clear voice, protective of its precious charge. Held crooked under its arm is a record of the kind of expression that can only ever be mostly understood, the way that hearts speak in codes unknown