On the day Ryn Weaver was born, NASA and CNES, the French national space agency, conjointly launched the TOPEX/Poseidon satellite.It was an oceanographic marvel, providing unprecedented measurements of sea levels, tidesand the ocean floor.To the cynic, this factoid may seem wholly coincidental. But in talking with Ryn, or listening to her music, one begins to believe in things like destiny, the uncanny, the stars. She has French blood. She has reoccurring dream of orcas. “I was a little mermaid,” she says of her childhood. When she moved to New York City, she missed the Pacific so much she would fill her bathtub with chilly water and submerge. Some musicians have a fascinating back story.
The day that Ryn was born is also the Day of the Velvet Voice, according to the numerologists at the Secret Language. Her voice is her instrument, and it is indeed as fleecy and voluptuous as brushed burgundy velvet. Her voice is also chiffon, devoré and nacré. It is cotton and silk. It can be crushed or hammered. When Ryn first began composing songs, she would deeply pile her vocals in a computer, building ethereal swirls, posting them to Soundcloud. Ryn meets Benny Blanco on Halloween in New York, her first time in the city. She is dressed at Bambi. He is dressed as himself, an impossibly young multiplatinum producer. They hang out in a burlesque club, part ways. Two years later, Ryn is crashing up and down the California coast.
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