Blueprints by Quantile

Quantile’s new album, *Blueprints*, isn't just background noise for your commute; it’s the sound of Gridthorne fighting for its soul. We’ve been living and breathing this city, watching the Charterwrights, the Parcelers, and the Vernaculars push and pull, and this record? It’s our take on all that grit and glory. We tried to bottle that feeling of reclaiming a place, holding onto what matters when everything else is changing too fast.

From the jump, you’re in the thick of it, morning traffic humming, Draft’s trombone setting the daily rhythm. It’s got that morning optimism, but you can already hear the undercurrents, different factions finding their step. We layered in voices, old timers and young folks, snippets of the city’s memory. That springy Fender bass and greasy electric keys? That’s the asphalt under your feet. It’s our way of saying, “This block remembers,” a phrase we kept going back to.

Then it gets messy. Parcel’s on the move, hustling those back alleys, bending rules with that smooth talk, brass lines zigzagging like a rezoning bid. You hear the stop-start of bureaucracy, but also the satisfaction of finding a loophole. Verge, meanwhile, they’re out there, in some forgotten lot, rallying the community, found-object percussion banging like a protest march, bike bells ringing out for a pop-up park. It’s raw, it’s loud, and it's all about folks fighting for their own patch.

Everything eventually converges on the Spur Arcade. It’s where all the competing plans just clash. You can practically feel the crowd’s footsteps powering the sequencers, hear that tension as different ideas interweave. It’s the city’s democratic process, played out in sound. Finch, they pull out all the stops there, channeling Gridthorne’s collective memory through every signal walk button and piece of construction debris. It’s a rhythmic ritual, almost trance-like, the weight of history and celebration all at once.

The whole thing builds to the Block Plan unfurling. That’s the climax. Everyone’s voices join in, a gospel-like chorus, turning all that friction into a unified roar. Draft brings out the Zoning Rod, blessing what's next, a moment of profound peace after all the noise. And we finish it off still building, jackhammers and crane cables blending right into the drums, the sound of the city continuing to work. It’s a reminder that a city’s future isn’t some abstract thing; it’s built, one groove, one story, one communal act of imagination at a time. We put everything into making this album feel like you're right there with us, plotting, arguing, and maybe, just maybe, believing that every corner holds a future worth building if you set the groove just right.

We're city planners with funk credentials, mapping grooves through concrete jungles. Our bass lines restructure neighborhoods while horns debate zoning laws. Catch us live—where every solo is a blueprint for tomorrow's block party.