The Marathon Petroleum refinery looms over the Boynton neighborhood of Detroit, MI like massive drill bits that cored through the center of the Earth. At night, when the lights on its dozens of towers light up, it resembles an alien electric grid, its red, blue, and white bulbs imprisoned like trapped Tinkerbells within steel beams. A few years ago, the plant was forced to pay an $80,000 fine, plus almost $300,000 in “community investments,” after a broken pipe leaked toxic gas into the lungs and waterways of local residents.
Just down the road, Giovanna Lenski and Christian Molik sit in their home, which doubles as their recording studio, describing the process of making their debut album as Clinic Stars. After releasing a series of EPs, beginning with 2021’s 10,000 Dreams and following up with April’s Past in 2022, they’ve stepped up their equipment and their process for their first full-length, the woozy and whimsical Only Hinting, out this Friday via Kranky. “We’ve definitely put a lot of thought into acoustic treatment and utilizing the space to the best of our ability,” Molik explains. “It’s definitely very comfortable for us. I don’t think we could ever see ourselves recording in a [traditional] studio.”
Listening to Molik’s undulating guitar, Lenski’s gossamer vocal glissandos, and the silken synths that tie them together, one might think of a music festival held in an enchanted forest, or the vastness of the sea at night, or a band of wild horses running through a wide open plain, manes gently waving in the wind. In other words, the band’s blend of post rock, shoegaze, and dream pop sounds worlds away from the industrial environment just outside their front door.
For Clinic Stars, disappearing into dense layers of intricately woven instrumentals and Lenski’s echoing sighs is partially the goal. “We both really enjoy being in nature, and we enjoy living in a world that’s very different from where we currently are,” Lenski says. The two met in 2019, the same year the Marathon refinery’s pipe burst, through “the internet” and a mutual friend. Molik was in Detroit and Lenski was in the Chicago area, so they initially began making music remotely, sending stems back and forth to each other.
Finally, in 2020, they collaborated in person for the first time. “In person, we were able to have a different dynamic, feeding off of each other, versus passing ideas back and forth,” Lenski recalls. “It flowed a lot better.” They sent a three-song demo around to a few labels, and Kranky, a natural fit for their misty Midwestern ennui, happened to be the only one to respond. Next month, they’re playing a Kranky showcase in Detroit alongside labelmates Windy And Carl, Justin Walter, and Jessica Bailiff. “We’re still in disbelief sometimes about it, because we really love so many of the artists on that label,” Lenski says.
Despite the city’s often harsh infrastructure, the pair feel grateful for the scene around them in Detroit; many of their friends from the area are musicians, some of whom will join them on stage as they embark on a small tour this fall. They haven’t yet performed outside of Michigan, and they’re currently working on bringing their overdubbed, otherworldly music to a live setting. “To replicate something that’s even close to the album requires quite a bit of gear. It’s definitely a lot to lug around with us, but with a five-piece band, we’re able to get pretty close to the record,” Molik says. “It’s definitely a process to try to translate,” Lenski adds. “I think it’s hard because, ideally, we would have three guitar players in our band, or maybe even more, but we have just Christian and another guitar player, so we have to make that work. It’s definitely fun to play with other people and try to figure it out.”
