Bing & Ruth: The Sound of Your Brain Taking a Bubble Bath in the Void

Let’s talk about Bing & Ruth, the musical collective that proves once and for all that a piano, a tape delay, and an existential crisis can absolutely throw a party. A very slow, contemplative, slightly melancholy party with a dress code of all beige and a strict “no sudden movements” policy.

If you haven’t heard Bing & Ruth, imagine if Erik Satie and Brian Eno had a child who was raised exclusively on snow, fog, and grainy VHS footage of wind turbines. That child grows up, moves to Brooklyn, collects a group of musicians who all look like they teach creative writing at a liberal arts college, and voilà: Bing & Ruth.

Founded by pianist and composer David Moore, Bing & Ruth is less a band and more a vibe that forgot how to speak and decided to play the clarinet instead. Their music doesn’t just fill a room—it seeps in like morning light through linen curtains. It’s the soundtrack to a documentary about a glacier falling in love.

Minimalism, but Make It Feelings

Let’s be honest: minimalism sometimes gets a bad rap for sounding like a metronome having a nervous breakdown. But Bing & Ruth is different. They do minimalism with heart, with subtle drama, with the kind of quiet intensity usually reserved for nature documentaries narrated by Tilda Swinton.

Take their album No Home of the Mind. You hear that title and immediately want to go lie down in a mossy field and stare at the sky. And the music? It’s like if a piano wrote a diary and you were allowed to read it, but only if you promised to be very gentle with your emotions.

And don’t even get me started on Species. That album sounds like what would happen if your dreams hired a band to play live while you sleep. It’s the aural equivalent of getting hugged by a ghost who only communicates in lowercase letters.

Instruments With Feelings

You know how most bands have a drummer and a guitarist and someone named Kyle who’s just kind of there? Not Bing & Ruth. Their lineup is like someone spilled a bag of orchestral instruments on a yoga mat. Clarinet? Yup. Harmonic textures? Double yup. Reeds, tape delays, organs, and sometimes what sounds like a haunted harmonium lost in a forest? Naturally.

This isn’t music you listen to so much as music you coexist with. It’s less “here’s a song” and more “here’s a mood made entirely of mist, longing, and one sustained piano note that might be flirting with you.”

What to Do While Listening to Bing & Ruth:

• Stare out a window and pretend you’re in a film about introspection.

• Fold laundry slowly while questioning the concept of time.

• Journal using only metaphors.

• Contemplate the idea of soup as a metaphor for the human condition.

• Cry a little. Then cry prettier.

In Conclusion: Bing & Ruth Slaps (Gently)

So the next time someone says, “Hey, what kind of music do you like?” you can confidently say, “Mostly ambient minimalist ensembles with a name that sounds like a law firm run by sad poets.” Then hand them a pair of headphones, cue up Tomorrow Was the Golden Age, and watch as their soul quietly floats away.

Bing & Ruth: music for when you want to feel everything… but softly.