Clerical Rapture by Ivoryache

_Clerical Rapture_ isn't just some collection of songs; it’s an audit of our own anxieties, played out across twelve floors of a city archive, after hours. We practically lived in those dusty halls, the low hum of ancient servers and the fluorescent buzz becoming as much a part of the music as Mirrah’s detuned piano or Nia’s cello. This whole album started with a thought: what if the very things that try to box us in—the paperwork, the legal jargon, those endless forms—could be flipped, turned into something that sets us free?

We took that idea and ran with it, track by track, floor by floor. From the nervous quiet of *Clock-In Hiss*, where every latch squeak tells a story of trespass, to the sheer, unbridled chaos of *Shelving Collapse*, which frankly, was almost too real. That track's built around the sound of an entire rack of files hitting the floor, diced up into a snare. It's not just a sample; it's the exact sonic moment everything gives way, when the tension finally snaps. That's the core of what we were chasing.

We poured over discharge summaries, legal injunctions, even old audit reports, twisting that bureaucratic language into something else entirely. "File me free" and "we sign ourselves out" became these defiant chants, lifted straight from the dread of institutional language and turned into something you might actually hum, or even shout. We pulled sounds from vending machine coin returns, cracked payphone handsets, and the almost-silent pop of a stress ball. It all went in, because we wanted to turn that claustrophobic office hum into a full-on, cathartic release.

The journey here goes from feeling trapped in a cubicle maze to throwing shredded secrets into the air. It’s heavy, no doubt. Tracks like *Staple Sparks* hit hard with the cold, sharp edges of administrative cruelty, while *Redacted Joy* finds brief, whispered defiance in the act of covering up, then screaming out, a case number. But then you get to *Cubicle Riot* and it’s a full-on march, rolling chairs slamming drawers like drums. This isn't just about soundscapes; it’s about a direct emotional arc, moving from suffocating quiet to a kind of communal exultation.

It’s an unraveling, a slow burn of protest that erupts into a confetti storm. We’ve always been about turning paperwork into protest, grief, and a reluctant sort of grace, but with *Clerical Rapture*, we aimed to push that further, to make it universally felt. It’s an album that asks if liberation can be found in the mundane, if joy can burst from the heart of bureaucracy. From the initial anxiety to the gospel-tinged strings of *Out-Of-Office Hosanna* and the quiet, exhaled relief of *Roof Release*, this record is designed to make you feel every step of that journey. We even brought it back to where it all began with *Clock-Out Chorus*, but this time, that latch squeak sounds like victory. We believe it’s a record that might just make you look at your own paperwork differently, maybe even inspire you to sign yourself out too. It’s emo-rap, it’s chamber pop, it’s a full-tilt sprint to freedom.

Raw feelings hit hard drums. Piano strings ache. We sample the tear of paper for a jolt. Hear it.