Steel & Velvet are a bunch of classically trained Breton musicians who decided the best use of their education was to strip everything back to basics. Johann Le Roux and Romuald Ballet-Baz started this whole thing in 2021, eventually bringing in guitarist Jean-Alain Larreur to round out the trio.
“An album that drifts like morning fog through trees. Purposeless in motion yet perfect in its arrival.”
The project is technically six tracks and a short film (directed by their frequent collaborator Loïc Moyou), telling the story of a hermit named Joshua who meets a scared woman in the woods. The songs? A wild mix pulled from Robbie Basho, Johnny Cash, Bob Dylan, Pixies, Nirvana, Peter Ivers, and David Lynch. The real trick here is how they’ve taken songs from completely different worlds and made them all sound like they belong to the same story. A Nirvana track sits comfortably next to a Robbie Basho piece. Bob Dylan rubs shoulders with Pixies. It shouldn’t work, but it does, because Steel & Velvet treat every song the same way: they tear it down to its skeleton and rebuild it with just acoustic guitars and voices.
There’s also a new addition this time around: Jade, Johann’s daughter, lends her voice to two tracks. Plus, having a father and daughter share the same project adds unexpected warmth to an album about isolation and connection. The irony isn’t lost, and it works beautifully. The acoustic treatment creates this suspended, timeless quality where a 1990s grunge anthem and a 1960s folk standard can exist in the same emotional space.
The short film component adds another layer without being necessary to enjoy the music. Joshua’s story gives you a framework if you want it, but the songs stand perfectly well on their own. It’s a nice bonus for people who like their music with visuals. Steel & Velvet have managed to make an album about floating that never feels aimless. If you’re tired of overproduced, overthought music that sounds like it was designed by committee and focus-tested to death, “People Just Float” is your antidote. It’s honest, it’s human, and it trusts you enough to not need bells and whistles to hold your attention.
Muse Chronicle 
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