Vinyl
The elements are familiar: Piercing riffs from classic trance; kickdrums from hardcore rave; the gothic tonalities of ‘80s industrial, EBM, and coldwave; the slamming rhythmic disjunctions of grime; the circling 808s of trap; androgynous, bordering-on-alien ultra-processed vocals. This particular blend of sounds has been integral to Tibetan-Nepalese-Swiss creator Aïsha Devi’s style since her first EP in 2013. And given that it no longer sounds radically new, you might think that it’s in danger of losing its edge—but that would be missing the point. First, there are sonic absolutes in play here: the use of high frequencies and the jagged leaps from silence to slamming industrial drums means the music will always have an adrenalized unease to it. Second, and even more important, this music was never about its novelty, but the fact that it provided a language for exploratory musicians like Devi to operate outside of the norms of the club and experimental electronica establishments. To put it mildly, there remains a vast amount still to be said in that language.
And Aïsha Devi has always had a lot to say. Anyone who has ever witnessed her live shows will know that she is a born performer and consummate musician, and on her third album—and first in five years—that fact is clearer than ever. From the outset, it’s clear that she’s upped her production game, a fact that’s clinched by the way the piercing high-pitched synth in opener “Not Defined by the Visible” swerves and glides into complex, even joyous melodies. Throughout the album, the tension between that cold, gothic, industrial edge and pure pleasure is examined and played with. The bodily groove of trap beats and the use of pop melody on tracks like the centerpiece “Unborn Yet Alive” aren’t just affectation, they’re integral to what this record is.
It’s an intense experience. Devi has talked a lot about self-realization through her art, and it’s easy to feel the sheer force of will creating something through the ritualistic processes here—the pounding second half of the album’s eight-minute closer is not for the faint of heart, but its payoff is majestic. But perhaps the album’s emblematic track is “Dimensional Spleen,” a collaboration with Kenyan producer Slikback. The simultaneous silliness and disquieting nature of the title sets the tone for a tune that simultaneously feels like a sci-fi war machine, a rewiring of your synapses, and a whimsical pop song—albeit one sung by interdimensional sprites. There’s a lot to it, and a lot to this album in general: proof positive that this neo-gothic sound palette is maturing into something durable and deep-seated.
