Arthur Russell World of Echo
by Daniel Finn
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Arthur Russell’s World of Echo is unlike anything else. Sparse, fragile, intimate, mostly just his voice and cello, with small bursts of electronics that feel like tiny sparks in the space around them.
Russell plays the cello in ways you wouldn’t expect, bending it, plucking it, making it hum, buzz, and sometimes sound almost unrecognizable. It’s as if he’s testing its limits, discovering new textures and moods with every note. At times, a rhythm seems to settle in, and then he’ll abandon it entirely, leaving you suspended, attentive, and off balance.
This album doesn’t fit neatly into a genre. You might catch hints of folk, experimental pop, or avant-garde ideas, but ultimately it’s just Russell—raw, uncompromising, singular. Listening to it, you get the sense he’s exploring sound for its own sake, unbound by expectation.
World of Echo was released in 1986 and is the only album he put out under his own name while alive. Most people know him from underground disco singles or posthumous folk compilations, but here it’s entirely him, unfiltered, creating a world of sound all his own.
It doesn’t hit hard or shock you. It’s subtle, sometimes fragile, and yet it leaves a lasting impression. Russell was ahead of his time, finding ways to turn a single instrument and a voice into a universe of sound.
If you want to hear Arthur Russell at his most personal and inventive, start here. You may need to listen to it a couple of times.