Joachim Badenhorst's "I’d Rather Stay at Home" isn't just a collection of film scores - it’s an invitation to linger, reflect, and wander through the intricate landscapes of Rinus Van de Velde’s cinematic world. Composed for three films - "The Villagers" (2019), "La Ruta Natural" (2022), and "Life in a Day" (2023) -, this album is a masterclass in blending sound and image, even when you can only hear half of the equation.

From the moment the first track, "A Happy Moment for a Pleinairist", gently unfolds, it’s clear you’re in for an auditory treat that balances playful curiosity with profound depth. Badenhorst crafts his scores using clarinets, saxophones, voice, and electronics, creating a soundscape that feels both intimate and expansive. Imagine sitting in a quiet room with the windows open to a world that’s half-dream, half-reality.

The pieces are short - many under two minutes - but that brevity feels intentional, like a series of sketches or haikus. Each track captures a fleeting mood or idea, perfectly suited to Van de Velde’s layered visual narratives. "He Suddenly Remembered Something About a Carrot" (a title worth the price of admission alone) carries a whimsical air, while "A Slow Descent into an Unknown" is as enigmatic and brooding as its name suggests.

And then there’s the humor - subtle, winking, and thoroughly delightful. Tracks like "A Man Crawls Dripping Out of a TV" beg to be imagined in surrealist detail. Yet, Badenhorst never leans into kitsch; even his lightest moments are suffused with care and craft.

The collaboration between Badenhorst and Van de Velde feels like a match made in an art film heaven. Van de Velde’s practice - rooted in tension between reality and fiction - finds a kindred spirit in Badenhorst’s music, which often feels like it’s teetering on the edge of improvisation and precision. Both artists share an obsession with layering, whether through narrative or sound, and this shared ethos radiates through the album.

Tracks like "Me and My Double" and "I Am My Own Archive" reflect this doubling, evoking an introspective dialogue between artist and audience. Meanwhile, "We All Live Here Together Alone" encapsulates a melancholy that feels achingly universal, a musical sigh for a world both interconnected and isolated.

The album comes with a beautifully curated book featuring stills and texts from the films, an artifact that elevates the project to something more - a tactile extension of its cinematic roots. And while the music stands brilliantly on its own, it’s hard not to long for the visual counterparts, making this an album that begs for rewatching and rereading as much as relistening.

In "I’d Rather Stay at Home", Badenhorst has created a work that’s at once deeply personal and profoundly collaborative. It’s an album for daydreamers, for lovers of art-house cinema, and for anyone who finds beauty in the fleeting and the fragile. Play it while gazing out a rain-streaked window or while sketching your own alternative worlds - it will meet you wherever you are, but it will leave you somewhere richer.