Ziúr returns with a blistering, rhythmically damaged post-everything workout featuring contributions from Elvin Brandhi, Iceboy Violet, Abdullah Miniawy, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef and James Ginzburg. It's brain-warping, queered avant-pop that bends in on itself like a möbius strip to sound something like Tom Waits, Toshinori Kondo and The Knife on a demented 3way.
Ziúr’s Hakuna Kulala debut explodes like a firework within seconds: rickety drums snake ritualistically around Elvin Brandhi's vocalisations like a spirited, exhilarating take on Bjork x Karin Dreijer, with added pep. It's punk music on a level, but sculpted with inimitable skill and propelled by impressive technical prowess.
Ziúr has spent the last few years developing a sound that's hard to pin down, moving from punk to deconstructed club to avant-jazz, metal, dancehall and folk music, creating an environment where anything and everything goes. When Egyptian vocalist and composer Abdullah Miniawy shows up on 'Malikan’, for instance, his celestial chants and warbling trumpet are an apt foil for Ziúr's rhythms, making a sound that orbits Trip Hop, but cracked under spiritual weight and creative energy.
Iceboy Violet appears on 'Move On', slurring sensually over jazzy twangs and squeaky percussion; pulling away from the noisy futurism of that sick 'Vanity' mixtape and poking into hypnotic rhymes with hard-swung thickets of trampled acoustic instrumentation. Brandhi appears again on both 'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote', channeling early Björk on the former and rebooting riot grrl on the latter, her vitriolic delivery draped across elastic womps, cash register pings and hollow thuds - basically like the Huggy Bear x Dilloway hookup of our dreams.
There are very few synth sounds to be heard on 'Eyeroll’, this time round Ziúr mostly makes use of a microphone and a small arsenal of acoustic instruments to lend the record its swagger, making a salient statement about modern electronic music - while everyone else is trying to wrestle with a new piece of expensive modular gear or a complex new plugin, Ziúr turns leftwards and skips the chase. Instrumental moments like 'Pique', 'Hasty Revisionism' and the bizarre, Americana-flecked closer 'Lacrymaturity' only confirm her resolve, simmering with antagonistic joy.
Truly, there's nowt else quite like it.
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Ziúr returns with a blistering, rhythmically damaged post-everything workout featuring contributions from Elvin Brandhi, Iceboy Violet, Abdullah Miniawy, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef and James Ginzburg. It's brain-warping, queered avant-pop that bends in on itself like a möbius strip to sound something like Tom Waits, Toshinori Kondo and The Knife on a demented 3way.
Ziúr’s Hakuna Kulala debut explodes like a firework within seconds: rickety drums snake ritualistically around Elvin Brandhi's vocalisations like a spirited, exhilarating take on Bjork x Karin Dreijer, with added pep. It's punk music on a level, but sculpted with inimitable skill and propelled by impressive technical prowess.
Ziúr has spent the last few years developing a sound that's hard to pin down, moving from punk to deconstructed club to avant-jazz, metal, dancehall and folk music, creating an environment where anything and everything goes. When Egyptian vocalist and composer Abdullah Miniawy shows up on 'Malikan’, for instance, his celestial chants and warbling trumpet are an apt foil for Ziúr's rhythms, making a sound that orbits Trip Hop, but cracked under spiritual weight and creative energy.
Iceboy Violet appears on 'Move On', slurring sensually over jazzy twangs and squeaky percussion; pulling away from the noisy futurism of that sick 'Vanity' mixtape and poking into hypnotic rhymes with hard-swung thickets of trampled acoustic instrumentation. Brandhi appears again on both 'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote', channeling early Björk on the former and rebooting riot grrl on the latter, her vitriolic delivery draped across elastic womps, cash register pings and hollow thuds - basically like the Huggy Bear x Dilloway hookup of our dreams.
There are very few synth sounds to be heard on 'Eyeroll’, this time round Ziúr mostly makes use of a microphone and a small arsenal of acoustic instruments to lend the record its swagger, making a salient statement about modern electronic music - while everyone else is trying to wrestle with a new piece of expensive modular gear or a complex new plugin, Ziúr turns leftwards and skips the chase. Instrumental moments like 'Pique', 'Hasty Revisionism' and the bizarre, Americana-flecked closer 'Lacrymaturity' only confirm her resolve, simmering with antagonistic joy.
Truly, there's nowt else quite like it.
Ziúr returns with a blistering, rhythmically damaged post-everything workout featuring contributions from Elvin Brandhi, Iceboy Violet, Abdullah Miniawy, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef and James Ginzburg. It's brain-warping, queered avant-pop that bends in on itself like a möbius strip to sound something like Tom Waits, Toshinori Kondo and The Knife on a demented 3way.
Ziúr’s Hakuna Kulala debut explodes like a firework within seconds: rickety drums snake ritualistically around Elvin Brandhi's vocalisations like a spirited, exhilarating take on Bjork x Karin Dreijer, with added pep. It's punk music on a level, but sculpted with inimitable skill and propelled by impressive technical prowess.
Ziúr has spent the last few years developing a sound that's hard to pin down, moving from punk to deconstructed club to avant-jazz, metal, dancehall and folk music, creating an environment where anything and everything goes. When Egyptian vocalist and composer Abdullah Miniawy shows up on 'Malikan’, for instance, his celestial chants and warbling trumpet are an apt foil for Ziúr's rhythms, making a sound that orbits Trip Hop, but cracked under spiritual weight and creative energy.
Iceboy Violet appears on 'Move On', slurring sensually over jazzy twangs and squeaky percussion; pulling away from the noisy futurism of that sick 'Vanity' mixtape and poking into hypnotic rhymes with hard-swung thickets of trampled acoustic instrumentation. Brandhi appears again on both 'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote', channeling early Björk on the former and rebooting riot grrl on the latter, her vitriolic delivery draped across elastic womps, cash register pings and hollow thuds - basically like the Huggy Bear x Dilloway hookup of our dreams.
There are very few synth sounds to be heard on 'Eyeroll’, this time round Ziúr mostly makes use of a microphone and a small arsenal of acoustic instruments to lend the record its swagger, making a salient statement about modern electronic music - while everyone else is trying to wrestle with a new piece of expensive modular gear or a complex new plugin, Ziúr turns leftwards and skips the chase. Instrumental moments like 'Pique', 'Hasty Revisionism' and the bizarre, Americana-flecked closer 'Lacrymaturity' only confirm her resolve, simmering with antagonistic joy.
Truly, there's nowt else quite like it.
Ziúr returns with a blistering, rhythmically damaged post-everything workout featuring contributions from Elvin Brandhi, Iceboy Violet, Abdullah Miniawy, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef and James Ginzburg. It's brain-warping, queered avant-pop that bends in on itself like a möbius strip to sound something like Tom Waits, Toshinori Kondo and The Knife on a demented 3way.
Ziúr’s Hakuna Kulala debut explodes like a firework within seconds: rickety drums snake ritualistically around Elvin Brandhi's vocalisations like a spirited, exhilarating take on Bjork x Karin Dreijer, with added pep. It's punk music on a level, but sculpted with inimitable skill and propelled by impressive technical prowess.
Ziúr has spent the last few years developing a sound that's hard to pin down, moving from punk to deconstructed club to avant-jazz, metal, dancehall and folk music, creating an environment where anything and everything goes. When Egyptian vocalist and composer Abdullah Miniawy shows up on 'Malikan’, for instance, his celestial chants and warbling trumpet are an apt foil for Ziúr's rhythms, making a sound that orbits Trip Hop, but cracked under spiritual weight and creative energy.
Iceboy Violet appears on 'Move On', slurring sensually over jazzy twangs and squeaky percussion; pulling away from the noisy futurism of that sick 'Vanity' mixtape and poking into hypnotic rhymes with hard-swung thickets of trampled acoustic instrumentation. Brandhi appears again on both 'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote', channeling early Björk on the former and rebooting riot grrl on the latter, her vitriolic delivery draped across elastic womps, cash register pings and hollow thuds - basically like the Huggy Bear x Dilloway hookup of our dreams.
There are very few synth sounds to be heard on 'Eyeroll’, this time round Ziúr mostly makes use of a microphone and a small arsenal of acoustic instruments to lend the record its swagger, making a salient statement about modern electronic music - while everyone else is trying to wrestle with a new piece of expensive modular gear or a complex new plugin, Ziúr turns leftwards and skips the chase. Instrumental moments like 'Pique', 'Hasty Revisionism' and the bizarre, Americana-flecked closer 'Lacrymaturity' only confirm her resolve, simmering with antagonistic joy.
Truly, there's nowt else quite like it.
Black vinyl LP.
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Ziúr returns with a blistering, rhythmically damaged post-everything workout featuring contributions from Elvin Brandhi, Iceboy Violet, Abdullah Miniawy, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef and James Ginzburg. It's brain-warping, queered avant-pop that bends in on itself like a möbius strip to sound something like Tom Waits, Toshinori Kondo and The Knife on a demented 3way.
Ziúr’s Hakuna Kulala debut explodes like a firework within seconds: rickety drums snake ritualistically around Elvin Brandhi's vocalisations like a spirited, exhilarating take on Bjork x Karin Dreijer, with added pep. It's punk music on a level, but sculpted with inimitable skill and propelled by impressive technical prowess.
Ziúr has spent the last few years developing a sound that's hard to pin down, moving from punk to deconstructed club to avant-jazz, metal, dancehall and folk music, creating an environment where anything and everything goes. When Egyptian vocalist and composer Abdullah Miniawy shows up on 'Malikan’, for instance, his celestial chants and warbling trumpet are an apt foil for Ziúr's rhythms, making a sound that orbits Trip Hop, but cracked under spiritual weight and creative energy.
Iceboy Violet appears on 'Move On', slurring sensually over jazzy twangs and squeaky percussion; pulling away from the noisy futurism of that sick 'Vanity' mixtape and poking into hypnotic rhymes with hard-swung thickets of trampled acoustic instrumentation. Brandhi appears again on both 'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote', channeling early Björk on the former and rebooting riot grrl on the latter, her vitriolic delivery draped across elastic womps, cash register pings and hollow thuds - basically like the Huggy Bear x Dilloway hookup of our dreams.
There are very few synth sounds to be heard on 'Eyeroll’, this time round Ziúr mostly makes use of a microphone and a small arsenal of acoustic instruments to lend the record its swagger, making a salient statement about modern electronic music - while everyone else is trying to wrestle with a new piece of expensive modular gear or a complex new plugin, Ziúr turns leftwards and skips the chase. Instrumental moments like 'Pique', 'Hasty Revisionism' and the bizarre, Americana-flecked closer 'Lacrymaturity' only confirm her resolve, simmering with antagonistic joy.
Truly, there's nowt else quite like it.
Back in stock. Edition of 100 copies, includes a download of the album dropped to your account. Mastered by Joker, Artwork & Design by Bungalovv.
Out of Stock
Ziúr returns with a blistering, rhythmically damaged post-everything workout featuring contributions from Elvin Brandhi, Iceboy Violet, Abdullah Miniawy, Juliana Huxtable, Ledef and James Ginzburg. It's brain-warping, queered avant-pop that bends in on itself like a möbius strip to sound something like Tom Waits, Toshinori Kondo and The Knife on a demented 3way.
Ziúr’s Hakuna Kulala debut explodes like a firework within seconds: rickety drums snake ritualistically around Elvin Brandhi's vocalisations like a spirited, exhilarating take on Bjork x Karin Dreijer, with added pep. It's punk music on a level, but sculpted with inimitable skill and propelled by impressive technical prowess.
Ziúr has spent the last few years developing a sound that's hard to pin down, moving from punk to deconstructed club to avant-jazz, metal, dancehall and folk music, creating an environment where anything and everything goes. When Egyptian vocalist and composer Abdullah Miniawy shows up on 'Malikan’, for instance, his celestial chants and warbling trumpet are an apt foil for Ziúr's rhythms, making a sound that orbits Trip Hop, but cracked under spiritual weight and creative energy.
Iceboy Violet appears on 'Move On', slurring sensually over jazzy twangs and squeaky percussion; pulling away from the noisy futurism of that sick 'Vanity' mixtape and poking into hypnotic rhymes with hard-swung thickets of trampled acoustic instrumentation. Brandhi appears again on both 'Nontrivial Differential' and 'Cut Cut Quote', channeling early Björk on the former and rebooting riot grrl on the latter, her vitriolic delivery draped across elastic womps, cash register pings and hollow thuds - basically like the Huggy Bear x Dilloway hookup of our dreams.
There are very few synth sounds to be heard on 'Eyeroll’, this time round Ziúr mostly makes use of a microphone and a small arsenal of acoustic instruments to lend the record its swagger, making a salient statement about modern electronic music - while everyone else is trying to wrestle with a new piece of expensive modular gear or a complex new plugin, Ziúr turns leftwards and skips the chase. Instrumental moments like 'Pique', 'Hasty Revisionism' and the bizarre, Americana-flecked closer 'Lacrymaturity' only confirm her resolve, simmering with antagonistic joy.
Truly, there's nowt else quite like it.