The new album from Ana Roxanne was written after a transformative experience of heartbreak. And just as you might wake up one day after a breakup and find yourself feeling OK, there’s a new clarity here. Where the New York-based musician’s vocals were once stretched out and suspended among hazy ambient textures, on Poem 1 they are front and centre. For the first time, we hear Roxanne’s lovely, wispy voice in lucid detail, as she contemplates loss and desire over slow and stripped-back compositions.
The record opens with a collection of mournful ballads which draw more on pop songwriting than Roxanne’s usual amorphous style. Her yearning is tangible in the simple yet evocative lyrics, but also beyond: the tense vibrato of the strings in The Age of Innocence; the sustained keys in Keepsake. There are occasional traces of the experimentalism of her first two records, in the droning synths, or the faint, granular whirr of tape looming in the background. These elements, paired with Roxanne’s strength as a singer, give these songs a leg-up when they risk feeling too drab or generic.
Just at the right moment, the mood shifts on One Shall Sleep, and this is when the record begins to shine. Layering celestial synths and strings with her soft, languorous drawl, Roxanne turns a Robert Schumann lied into something so lush and epic it feels fit for a dream sequence on film. Wishful (Draft) is similarly transcendental, with its wide-eyed, Julee Cruise-style wooziness. Even when the sweeping instrumentation clears for the following track, Cover Me, the atmosphere is upheld by an affecting choral performance, which complements Roxanne’s own breathy sigh and sparkling lead vocals. As she pleads for someone, somewhere, to “cover what will never be again”, a sense of closure emerges.
Also out this month
Foundry, the new record from DJ and composer Yu Su, is an exploration of what she calls “in-between music” (Short Span). Alongside collaborators Dip in the Pool, Memotone and Seefeel, she draws together dubbed-out ambient and scuzzy minimal techno sensibilities, with a gorgeous spoken word moment halfway through.
The first release on DIY label Ó Mhaidin is Toothpaste for Your Elephant, an eccentric 16-track compilation for “midnight wranglers of the skuzzy and off-centre”. Highlights include a scuffed-up ditty from Thorn Wych, a brilliantly murky dub track from Idol Ko Si, and a feverish live recording from underground band of the moment Kulku.
On Music for Stalagmites, Middlesbrough-based producer Rees takes inspiration from the slow growth of the titular underground rock formations (Magic Ritmo). Accordingly, these downtempo club tracks are dense and dark, with swirling synths and freaky sound design. Field recordings of dripping water amplify the cave-like atmosphere.