Madelyn Byrd returns to Glasgow’s Somewhere Press with a hazed set of weightless soundscapes. »Night Rider« opens in widescreen with the chirp of cicadas dancing across a desert landscape, before Shiroishi’s saxophone eventually cuts through the dark like neon. The story Byrd tells is close to their heart: they spent their teenage years in the Sonoran Desert, the vast subtropical expanse spanning parts of Arizona, California, and Mexico. Its seemingly alien landscape — pocked with giant, tree-like cacti and looming rocky outcrops — is lodged in the cultural memory, a quality Byrd draws on as they slowly reveal their poetic narrative.
The album plays like a road movie of sorts, moving through Byrd’s memories and setting them to very different rhythms. Clattering drums emerge on »Of Nature, Of Bodies, Of Dreams«, while Byrd’s soft tones, processed to sound almost otherworldly, glide gently across the metallic clangs. Each track highlights a form of movement: there is the microscopic, insectoid crunch of »Imprint«, where guitar prangs meet Shiroishi’s spirited runs, while »Into Sonoran Pool« creates motion from the atmosphere itself, recreating the thick desert air with shimmering electrical currents and psychedelic processes.
At this point, the album begins to echo Robert Ashley’s late-period theatrical work: compositions that broke with familiar formats, juxtaposing dialogue with knowingly experimental orchestral flourishes. Byrd strikes a similar note through a fusion of poetry, sound design, choral music, and chiming, listless ambient elements that also recall Harold Budd. Budd grew up in the Mojave Desert, which borders the Sonoran, creating an eerie parallel with the moods he conjured throughout his long career.
Byrd finds a similarly aesthetic link to the West Coast landscape, referencing the history of experimental music while establishing their own voice. As the album rides into the sunset with a roar of engines, they offer a distinct vision of pop: »What Is, What Was« integrates a chugging break and ketamised vocal hook, while the finale, »In Perfume, Remember«, lands as a James K-like heartmelter.
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