For the past ten years, St. Louis producer Ian Jones has crafted a hazy, hip-hop-informed body of electronic music under the name Parisian. And so it was a surprise last month when he released a long-awaited full-length album under the new name of Shinra Knives.
“More than anything, [Parisian] was a formative period in which I developed my voice,” Jones says, adding, “Felt like I was writing to be accepted by the creators I looked up to. Finally learned to write just for myself.”
The change follows what was arguably Jones’ peak year as Parisian. In March 2021, he collaborated with Foveal Media for an intense audiovisual set that was featured in New Music Circle’s online series available on YouTube. Jones also performed live under the Parisian moniker in August where he played a sold-out show at The Pageant along with Foxing and other local favorites. In November, Parisian even contributed to Afrofuturism St. Louis, a compilation featuring several St. Louis artists under a unified cultural aesthetic released on cassette by Close-Far Recording.
But even as Parisian succeeded, Jones began planning a shift. The release of his album, , as Shinra Knives was a calculated choice that reflects the sound artist’s progression through pain and persistence.
“I know that there’s truth to the adage that time heals, but in that space when you’re still so close to the catalyst for your pain, that moment feels unrelenting and infinite,” Jones explains, adding, “This explores the idea that everything doesn’t always just ‘get better.'”
On , Jones makes the transition to Shinra Knives with an unrelenting, vastly instrumental set of songs that evoke regret and anxiety in clever and often disarming ways. That’s not to say joy can’t be found throughout the album, but the production begs the listener to dig deeper for moments of respite.
“I played one of the songs in its early stages for a musician friend, and their first response, before commenting on the technical parts of the song, was ‘Sorry for your loss,'” Jones says. The loss being the sudden passing of his father in December of 2015.
“He went into the hospital and died unexpectedly a few days after his arrival there. Months later it came out that his death may have been due to the substandard care he received from the facility,” he says. Jones then spent the better part of three years embroiled in a wrongful death lawsuit against the veterans hospital where his father died, while simultaneously enduring what he calls “a difficult relationship.”
“One of the last conversations I had with my father was discussing the things that he was going to do to improve his health in the future, and I responded with doubt, because I’d heard him express a similar sentiment before,” Jones says.
“He passed before I could tell him I truly wanted to help him get better, and I really hated myself for not better supporting him in that moment. A lot of the things I wrote in that era were largely themed that way, around regret and anxiety.”
When asked if working on during that time helped him, Jones specifies that it was less of a coping mechanism and more of a way to pass the days until he started feeling “better.”
“I wasn’t properly addressing my anxieties or depression, just writing songs. I think by the end, I didn’t feel better about the events that transpired, but I had a fairly accurate snapshot of how grieving felt like for me,” says Jones.
Released on December 8, offers a stunning exploration of these themes through a maximalist approach to audio production. Drums can be heard rolling in-stereo like a toppled jar of marbles while melodies rush and contort to the resultant beats. Shinra Knives strives to suffocate with sound, letting up for only two moments of silence throughout the entire ten-track album.
He’s sonic spelunking the whole time, digging for precious artifacts found by stretching the likes of a djembe solo or a heavily distorted drum loop. On title track “In Grief,” Shinra Knives can be heard rushing to the ocean floor before floating back up with a bounty of buried treasure as “Cathdralism” closes the record.
Jones worked with Bryan Dematteis and Chad Eivins of Foveal Media to craft a pair of stunning music videos for two of the album’s key songs “Girl Missing” and “Posture.” Jones first met the pair when they worked on the Parisian video set for New Music Circle last year, and he reached out with an ambitious set of ideas for Shinra Knives.
“I knew it could be a potentially difficult thing to ask someone to aid in making things with the sentiment I’ve attached to them, and they handled it with such grace. Bryan is a really brilliant artist, and it absolutely wouldn’t have come together in the way it did without his insight,” Jones says.
Both videos, available on the Shinra Knives YouTube channel, show Jones as he vibes and performs in a physical space between his music gear and audio-reactive projections. Other footage gracefully dips in and out of the frame much like the samples scattered throughout each song. Influenced by the subtitles used in foreign films to translate the sentiment of characters on screen, Jones provides yet another layer with words that travel along kinetic beats.
“Both the ‘Posture’ and ‘Girl Missing’ videos are handwritten letters to people that are no longer in my life. Things I didn’t have the wherewithal to communicate when they were still by my side,” says Jones.
To date, has been released through most major streaming and digital platforms (Spotify, Bandcamp, Soundcloud, etc.) with no concrete plans for a future physical release. As a tribute to Jones’ father, all proceeds from the album go to the Disabled American Veterans Charitable Service Trust.
“I know ultimately I can’t do anything to stop others from experiencing what he as a veteran and I as his son went through, but I’m doing what little I can to alleviate some of that pain,” Jones says.
With all of the finality present in the themes of , it’s easy to forget the fresh start this album represents as the debut release of Shinra Knives. Jones has spent much of the pandemic educating himself on music and video production, and he intends to express that growth through new material that has a much different, and lighter, tone.
“There’s no amount of songs I can write that will bring that person back,” Jones says.
“Things have happened and time is going to pass, so I can either do something with that time or just sit and wallow. In the interim, I can at least learn something.”
