Sylphine Soporifera
Polish vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Antonina Nowacka returns with a mesmerising weave of wordless, operatic vocals, early music and a kind of fractal ambience last heard on Kara-Lis Coverdale’s totemic Grafts, arranging zither, organ, ocarina and '90s synths for an album that sits half way between New Age and the electro-acoustic avant garde.
Nobody sings quite like Antonina Nowacka. Her voice took us by surprise on 2020's 'Lamunan', an album that she dreamt up in a cave in Indonesia before transporting its soul to a Polish fortress. Then, on 'Languoria', a collaboration with Sofie Birch, she fleshed out her spine-tingling voice with luscious new age instrumentation, a theme she develops further on 'Sylphine Soporifera'.
On the opening 'Moth Spins', Nowacka sets the scene, using resonant zither and dusty organ sounds to capture the mood of late '70s new age music, but with peculiar arrangements - to our mind resonating with the distinctive work of Clare Fischer (hello prince fans). Her voice - sharpened in India where she trained with Hindustani vocalist Shashwati Mandal - sails into the heavens on 'Odrracir', peeling above breezy synths and manipulated water sounds.
There's an unmistakable celestial quality to the sparse 'I Found You in the Cloud', as Nowacka comes into full focus, discreetly tape echoed to map out the topography of her fantastical locale. She rarely stays put for a moment: on 'Turning into Dolphins' she harmonises with vintage synths, layering her voice into sacred choirs, while on 'Field Vision' she trades the voice for an ocarina, using its unusual pitch to counteract electrical currents.
‘Sylphine Soporifera is a disarming statement - a surreal, fantastical voyage that's almost as beautiful as it is indescribably strange.
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Polish vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Antonina Nowacka returns with a mesmerising weave of wordless, operatic vocals, early music and a kind of fractal ambience last heard on Kara-Lis Coverdale’s totemic Grafts, arranging zither, organ, ocarina and '90s synths for an album that sits half way between New Age and the electro-acoustic avant garde.
Nobody sings quite like Antonina Nowacka. Her voice took us by surprise on 2020's 'Lamunan', an album that she dreamt up in a cave in Indonesia before transporting its soul to a Polish fortress. Then, on 'Languoria', a collaboration with Sofie Birch, she fleshed out her spine-tingling voice with luscious new age instrumentation, a theme she develops further on 'Sylphine Soporifera'.
On the opening 'Moth Spins', Nowacka sets the scene, using resonant zither and dusty organ sounds to capture the mood of late '70s new age music, but with peculiar arrangements - to our mind resonating with the distinctive work of Clare Fischer (hello prince fans). Her voice - sharpened in India where she trained with Hindustani vocalist Shashwati Mandal - sails into the heavens on 'Odrracir', peeling above breezy synths and manipulated water sounds.
There's an unmistakable celestial quality to the sparse 'I Found You in the Cloud', as Nowacka comes into full focus, discreetly tape echoed to map out the topography of her fantastical locale. She rarely stays put for a moment: on 'Turning into Dolphins' she harmonises with vintage synths, layering her voice into sacred choirs, while on 'Field Vision' she trades the voice for an ocarina, using its unusual pitch to counteract electrical currents.
‘Sylphine Soporifera is a disarming statement - a surreal, fantastical voyage that's almost as beautiful as it is indescribably strange.
Polish vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Antonina Nowacka returns with a mesmerising weave of wordless, operatic vocals, early music and a kind of fractal ambience last heard on Kara-Lis Coverdale’s totemic Grafts, arranging zither, organ, ocarina and '90s synths for an album that sits half way between New Age and the electro-acoustic avant garde.
Nobody sings quite like Antonina Nowacka. Her voice took us by surprise on 2020's 'Lamunan', an album that she dreamt up in a cave in Indonesia before transporting its soul to a Polish fortress. Then, on 'Languoria', a collaboration with Sofie Birch, she fleshed out her spine-tingling voice with luscious new age instrumentation, a theme she develops further on 'Sylphine Soporifera'.
On the opening 'Moth Spins', Nowacka sets the scene, using resonant zither and dusty organ sounds to capture the mood of late '70s new age music, but with peculiar arrangements - to our mind resonating with the distinctive work of Clare Fischer (hello prince fans). Her voice - sharpened in India where she trained with Hindustani vocalist Shashwati Mandal - sails into the heavens on 'Odrracir', peeling above breezy synths and manipulated water sounds.
There's an unmistakable celestial quality to the sparse 'I Found You in the Cloud', as Nowacka comes into full focus, discreetly tape echoed to map out the topography of her fantastical locale. She rarely stays put for a moment: on 'Turning into Dolphins' she harmonises with vintage synths, layering her voice into sacred choirs, while on 'Field Vision' she trades the voice for an ocarina, using its unusual pitch to counteract electrical currents.
‘Sylphine Soporifera is a disarming statement - a surreal, fantastical voyage that's almost as beautiful as it is indescribably strange.
Polish vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Antonina Nowacka returns with a mesmerising weave of wordless, operatic vocals, early music and a kind of fractal ambience last heard on Kara-Lis Coverdale’s totemic Grafts, arranging zither, organ, ocarina and '90s synths for an album that sits half way between New Age and the electro-acoustic avant garde.
Nobody sings quite like Antonina Nowacka. Her voice took us by surprise on 2020's 'Lamunan', an album that she dreamt up in a cave in Indonesia before transporting its soul to a Polish fortress. Then, on 'Languoria', a collaboration with Sofie Birch, she fleshed out her spine-tingling voice with luscious new age instrumentation, a theme she develops further on 'Sylphine Soporifera'.
On the opening 'Moth Spins', Nowacka sets the scene, using resonant zither and dusty organ sounds to capture the mood of late '70s new age music, but with peculiar arrangements - to our mind resonating with the distinctive work of Clare Fischer (hello prince fans). Her voice - sharpened in India where she trained with Hindustani vocalist Shashwati Mandal - sails into the heavens on 'Odrracir', peeling above breezy synths and manipulated water sounds.
There's an unmistakable celestial quality to the sparse 'I Found You in the Cloud', as Nowacka comes into full focus, discreetly tape echoed to map out the topography of her fantastical locale. She rarely stays put for a moment: on 'Turning into Dolphins' she harmonises with vintage synths, layering her voice into sacred choirs, while on 'Field Vision' she trades the voice for an ocarina, using its unusual pitch to counteract electrical currents.
‘Sylphine Soporifera is a disarming statement - a surreal, fantastical voyage that's almost as beautiful as it is indescribably strange.
Back in stock. Mastered by Adam Badí Donoval, Cover photo by Riccardo Caspani. Artwork and layout by Paulina Ufnal & Janek Ufnal. Includes a download of the album dropped to your account.
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Polish vocalist/multi-instrumentalist Antonina Nowacka returns with a mesmerising weave of wordless, operatic vocals, early music and a kind of fractal ambience last heard on Kara-Lis Coverdale’s totemic Grafts, arranging zither, organ, ocarina and '90s synths for an album that sits half way between New Age and the electro-acoustic avant garde.
Nobody sings quite like Antonina Nowacka. Her voice took us by surprise on 2020's 'Lamunan', an album that she dreamt up in a cave in Indonesia before transporting its soul to a Polish fortress. Then, on 'Languoria', a collaboration with Sofie Birch, she fleshed out her spine-tingling voice with luscious new age instrumentation, a theme she develops further on 'Sylphine Soporifera'.
On the opening 'Moth Spins', Nowacka sets the scene, using resonant zither and dusty organ sounds to capture the mood of late '70s new age music, but with peculiar arrangements - to our mind resonating with the distinctive work of Clare Fischer (hello prince fans). Her voice - sharpened in India where she trained with Hindustani vocalist Shashwati Mandal - sails into the heavens on 'Odrracir', peeling above breezy synths and manipulated water sounds.
There's an unmistakable celestial quality to the sparse 'I Found You in the Cloud', as Nowacka comes into full focus, discreetly tape echoed to map out the topography of her fantastical locale. She rarely stays put for a moment: on 'Turning into Dolphins' she harmonises with vintage synths, layering her voice into sacred choirs, while on 'Field Vision' she trades the voice for an ocarina, using its unusual pitch to counteract electrical currents.
‘Sylphine Soporifera is a disarming statement - a surreal, fantastical voyage that's almost as beautiful as it is indescribably strange.