Steel & Velvet’s latest EP, People Just Float, arrives as a carefully woven narrative, a six-track acoustic voyage set against the windswept backdrop of a dreamlike western. Forming one half of a dual artistic project that also includes a short film by longtime collaborator Loïc Moyou, the EP continues the band’s signature minimalist tradition while expanding the emotional landscape of their sound. Built on the friendship and artistic chemistry of vocalist Johann Le Roux and guitarist Romuald Ballet-Baz—later joined by blues-rock guitarist Jean-Alain Larreur—Steel & Velvet once again prove their devotion to an intimate, stripped-back aesthetic. Their approach recalls the raw humility of Johnny Cash’s American Recordings, where the power of a song lies not in its embellishment but in its exposed, unguarded humanity.
The EP strengthens the spirit that has guided Steel & Velvet since 2021: acoustic guitars, unadorned vocals, and a reverence for the roots of North American folk, rock, and grunge. Yet People Just Float is far from a simple collection of covers. These six songs have been selected and arranged to score the story of Joshua, a solitary man living in a remote cabin whose quiet existence shatters when he encounters a terrified woman in the woods. The tracks serve as emotional chapters in this frontier tale, shadowing its tension, tenderness, mystery, and revelation. It’s a concept rarely attempted in such a minimalist format, and rarer still to see it executed with such cohesion. The EP feels like an old folk record unearthed from a trunk in a forgotten cabin—weathered, contemplative, and hauntingly alive.
The opening track, “Orphan’s Lament,” is perhaps the most striking example of Steel & Velvet’s ability to reimagine. Originally composed on piano by visionary guitarist Robbie Basho, the song is transformed through Ballet-Baz’s brilliant guitar adaptation. Rather than mimic Basho’s grand, meditative style, the band reframes the lament as a stark conversation between voice and strings. Johann’s vocals—naked, resonant, and full of soft ache—guide the listener into Joshua’s inner world, a landscape of solitude and unspoken memory. It becomes clear from the first notes that this is not an EP designed for passive listening. It’s an invitation into stillness, an encouragement to inhabit silence in the way few modern productions allow.
“Ring of Fire” and “Man in the Long Black Coat” follow, both iconic songs deeply rooted in American musical mythology. Yet Steel & Velvet approach them not as museum pieces but as living works. Their “Ring of Fire” replaces the famous mariachi-infused blaze with a slow-burning acoustic interpretation that hinges on vulnerability rather than swagger. Meanwhile, Bob Dylan’s “Man in the Long Black Coat” becomes a spectral folktale in their hands, the guitar work sparse and ragged in all the right ways. These covers breathe with the dust and emptiness of the western landscape of the short film, echoing Joshua’s increasing entanglement with danger and destiny. The restraint shown here—never rushing, never over-arranging—demonstrates the group’s understanding that atmosphere is as vital as melody in storytelling.
The EP’s midsection finds its emotional pulse in the pieces “Silver” and “Lake of Fire,” selections that further lean into the band’s grunge and alternative influences. The Nirvana-popularised “Lake of Fire,” in particular, is given a chilling acoustic treatment that magnifies its folkloric eeriness. What distinguishes these performances is the band’s absolute refusal to overwhelm the listener. Every breath, every string scrape, every slight quiver in Johann’s voice is preserved, leaving imperfections intact as part of the emotional terrain. These choices are not incidental—they speak to Steel & Velvet’s dedication to authenticity, to the belief that the human fingerprint should remain visible in all art.
A particularly moving nuance in People Just Float is the inclusion of Johann’s daughter, Jade, who lends her voice to two tracks. Her presence softens the darker corners of the EP and adds an intergenerational quality to the storytelling. The EP’s final track, “In Heaven”—a song famously linked to the Pixies and David Lynch’s Eraserhead—becomes a fragile, almost dreamlike closing note. Jade’s vocal timbre brings an otherworldly innocence to the song, hinting at despair and transcendence. As the narrative arc of Joshua’s story leans toward ambiguity, this ethereal ending feels fitting. It’s the sound of drifting upward—or perhaps merely drifting, suspended between fear and hope.
Ultimately, People Just Float is a stunning illustration of Steel & Velvet’s artistic ethos. It is not an EP that demands attention with volume or studio gloss; instead, it rewards patience, reflection, and deep listening. The band’s commitment to unamplified vocals, organic performance spaces, and strong visual storytelling makes this project feel like a relic from another era—timeless yet grounded in contemporary emotion. With these six tracks, Steel & Velvet offers a unified cinematic experience, reminding us that folk music’s oldest purpose is storytelling. And in People Just Float, the story is one worth hearing slowly, fully, and more than once.
