Search:alliyah enyo x angel r

Alliyah Enyo’s genius 2022 ‘Echo's Disintegration’ album infused William Basinski's "Disintegration Loops" with choral smoke, and she now returns with an even more immersive followup alongside ambient enigma and Kelela producer Florian T M Zeisig, making heady and translucent loop-finding vocal soundscapes.

In 2022, Enyo worked with the Edinburgh Sculpture Workshop on an epic two-hour composition made from tape loops inspired by selkies, mythical creatures in Celtic folklore. Contemplating memory, grief and time itself, Enyo devised a "sonorous myth" installation and performance that drowned her voice in the deep sea, using echo to help parallel the communication of humpback whales. It was powerful enough for her to net the award for Sonic Arts at the Scottish Awards for New Music last year, and it's this material that she revisits here, entering into a dialog with Berlin-based producer Florian T M Zeisig, here adopting a new avatar - Angel R.

On the A-side, Enyo distills two hours of the original composition into 11 haunted fragments that ooze in and out of each other like a dream. Reworked at Glasgow's Green Door studio, she sculpts her voice into weightless Radigue-style incantations, leaning into the tape loops' corroded inconsistencies. Enyo's voice becomes the selkie's song: wordless echoes that sound as if they're being dragged slowly towards the sea bed. There are remnants of folk forms in there; we hear traces of church music and Celtic ballads - but she obscures her influences with dubbed reverb, distortion and repetition. Phrases disappear and re-appear, time becomes a loop, best absorbed in a single sitting to properly perceive its graceful, sinking bliss. By the end of the side, Enyo’s vocals are completely waterlogged, dimmed against Robin Guthrie-like shimmers, all brassy, blurred incantations emanating from the depths of a floatation tank.

Florian T M Zeisig responds on the B-side with three flooded, longer-form pieces that will appeal to anyone who devoured his album of corroded Enya loops a couple of years ago. Enyo's voice is now reduced to a whisper, blistered and gauzy expressions that float over dense pads on 'Untitled I' before getting lost in the weeds completely on the muggy 'Untitled II'. On the closing 'Gates of Heaven', he sculpts Enyo's voice until it's just an illusory, hypnotic reflection, slow-fading into the aether.

Following releases on Longform Editions and her own Paralaxe imprint, Dania descends on Somewhere Press with crepuscular, quixotic pop that hits a sweet spot between Mark Clifford’s Cocteau Twins remixes and Massive Attack.

Parked next to Alliyah Enyo, Slowfoam, and Angel R, Dania’s found an ideal home at Somewhere Press, and »Listless« is her most confident, transcendent set to date. Her last few albums were steeped in meaning – a way for the Iraq-born, Tasmania-raised artist to explore her identity and probe the impacts of colonisation. Here, she gives herself more room to breathe, thriving in the mysteries of nighttime – a direct reference to her nocturnal existence as an emergency doctor in Australia. The album was completely composed in the midnight hours, but it’s not self-consciously dark in the way you might expect. Opening track »On a Grassy Knoll« is one of the prettiest – and poppiest – tracks Dania has released, cracking open her voice with thrumming harmonies that she complements with granulated, Guthrie-esque guitars and, most unexpectedly, half-speed drums. It’s the first time Dania’s used percussion, and it suits her extremely well.

In fact, even when the powdery breaks drop away in the album’s final breaths, you can almost hear an outline of where they might remain. On »Write My Name«, Dania loops her voice between waved strings and slippery piano phrases, and the hypnotic closer »A Hunger« is a thudding, sub-heavy 4/4 away from being Peak Oil-style contemporary dub techno.

But the big draw here is Dania’s batch of hazy dream-pop miniatures, like the Seefeel-adjacent »Heart Shaped Burn« (with Rupert Clervaux on drums), and the Bristolian »Car Crash Premonition«, that features a rolling bassline taking us right back to 1998. Very strong – peak listening if you’re into Bowery Electric, MBV, or Mark Van Hoen.