With a penchant for eye-catching headgear and a reputation for electrifying live performances, Papua New Guinea-born Ngaiire’s second album lives up to her visual presentation with an energy and fondness for experimentation that is truly inspired.
Built around a steady stream of glitch beats, sourced from a range of altered digital sounds, the rhythms on this album are irresisitibly imaginative as they range from the distorted rumble of the opening Anchor to the morse code beats of Diggin’ and I Can’t Hear God Anymore.
Warm blooded yet machine-crafted, the music on this album takes some really interesting twists and is approached as if through a kaleidoscope, with rules bent and remodelled constantly.
Having said that, there’s a liquid lilt to her voice that adds considerable softness and sauce to these tracks, so that no matter how filtered and electronicised the music becomes, there’s a mountain of soul and goose bump inducing emotion pumping through these numbers.
The arrangements are brave and unpredictable with sonic surprises and unlikely flourishes at every turn, while every song is full of hooks to catch your ear, making for a thoroughly captivating listen indeed.
Cap this with lyrics full of arch observations on social and sexual politics and a voice far-reaching in scope and sound as she ranges from Gospel pleading (Fall Into My Arms) to sweetly soulful (Once) and quiveringly sensual (Cruel), and you have a pretty special combination.
Musician, actor, singer, music reviewer, Phil’s interests cover a lot of bases and this is reflected in the music he writes about. From blues to soul, ambient to electronic, Phil writes about artists he feels are interesting, true to their craft and worthy of your ears.