Elevator Music
Byredo (2018)

The opening blast is mainly driven by a light and fairly bright violet note. Soon a jasmine is added, which is a bit bland and unexciting on me.

The second stage adds an ambery impression, followed by the development of a warm woodsy undertone that is quite nonspecific, but is characterised by a smooth and nigh-creamy texture.

I get moderate sillage, good projection and ten hours of longevity on my skin.

This spring scent is not bad, but it is so tediously generic and so boringly synthetic that it is actually rather remarkable. The best part are the last hours on my skin, but they do not elevate the whole to even near the level of a thumbs-up score. 2.5/5.

Byredo is known for their "scent memory" fragrances, as the very name itself is a portmanteau of "by redolence", but sometimes they can be rather hit or miss. Such is the case of the strictly-limited Elevator Music (2018), which consists of only 200 bottles worldwide in collaboration with clothing brand Off-White, and is even more expensive than the standard range. My take on Elevator Music is it gets the point across of being benign almost to the point of banal, and a hodge-podge of common designer/prestige accords like what you'd expect to smell if 5 different people all wearing fragrance stepped out of an elevator that you just boarded. I see the quirk appeal for hardcore fans of the brand, but outside enjoying the creative exercise on display, I just don't get the point of wearing this.

Elevator Music opens with Jasmine hedione and a sharp, almost abrasive chemical note that really takes the breath away. After a while, we settle into some synthetic woodyambers and a semi-aquatic violet accord very similar in texture to Creed Green Irish Tweed (1985). It's at this point Elevator Music smells most like what it claims to be: a cloud of plastic, metal, perfume trails, and heat. The base is a mishmash of rhubarb and Iso E Super, ambroxan and ambrette seed, tugging between modern masculine and feminine tropes but congealing into a grey blah. This stuff lasts a good while with moderate stinging sillage, but unless you're into an even more extreme form of what Calvin Klein does, this won't be for you. I'd keep Elevator Music to spring and fall casual use if outdoors, and as a work scent if taken inside, because there isn't enough personality here for much more than that.

Easily unisex because it's just so painfully nondescript, Elevator Music feels like the smell of an active Macy's fragrance counter, where everything has been tested and is in the air, which is a vibe some people genuinely like, but not me. I don't find the scent of Elevator Music particularly offensive, much like how I feel about the real thing, but it's just a tolerable minor nuisance that I'd feel confused about actually paying for. Perfumer Ben Gorham really hit the nail on the head 100% with the aptly-named Elevator Music, a limited Byredo scent that is "so Byredo" it's almost painful, and most certainly not for someone getting their feet wet with the brand. Your thoughts may differ. Neutral for being interesting to experience but otherwise not enjoyable.

On one hand, this kind of smells like rhubarb, albeit very plasticky. On the other hand, it smells mostly like glue or wet paint or the smell of a newly constructed building. The most interesting thing is the way it points out that rhubarb, done in this way, kind of does smell like glue and dust and paint and industrial adhesive.

This isn't the first time I've smelled this combination - Lubin's Figaro explores the same rhubarb/paint combination, but Elevator Music is a bit sweeter and has considerably more lasting power. This probably won't be a favorite for everyone, but it's well done if you're into the weirder, more industrial side of perfumery.