Bit of a special one here from Lafawndah, who follows last year's phenomenal avant-pop masterpiece "Ancestor Boy" with a record that the press release compares to Brigitte Fontaine and Scott Walker. Strong words, but actually not far off the mark: "The Fifth Season" is ambitious and bold, worlds removed from its predecessor but existing assuredly in the same cinematic universe.
Just as Scott Walker was able to pivot fluidly from vivid pop to dark, mind-raking doom poetry, Lafawndah shows herself to be equally as versatile here. The album isn't an easy listen by any means, fusing haunted instrumental elements (tuba, trombone, percussion and keyboards) with her ever-more-confident vocal phrasing. There's a blurry, surreal artistry on show here that's as rare as it is beautiful, as Lafawndah's voice melts into wobbly cascades of marimba and brass, erupting occasionally into what might be a song, or might be something else entirely. If u thought genre was melted on "Ancestor Boy", it's been heated into lava here and Lafawndah alchemically reshapes the heaviest metals into glittering gold.
Trap gets fuzzed into baroque pop; opera is dropped hopelessly into teeth-chattering avant drone; Beverly Glenn Copeland's 'Don't Despair' is swept into a chasm of eerie synthetic doom. Really we're floored by this one - give it time to breathe and it'll creep up on u, we promise.
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Bit of a special one here from Lafawndah, who follows last year's phenomenal avant-pop masterpiece "Ancestor Boy" with a record that the press release compares to Brigitte Fontaine and Scott Walker. Strong words, but actually not far off the mark: "The Fifth Season" is ambitious and bold, worlds removed from its predecessor but existing assuredly in the same cinematic universe.
Just as Scott Walker was able to pivot fluidly from vivid pop to dark, mind-raking doom poetry, Lafawndah shows herself to be equally as versatile here. The album isn't an easy listen by any means, fusing haunted instrumental elements (tuba, trombone, percussion and keyboards) with her ever-more-confident vocal phrasing. There's a blurry, surreal artistry on show here that's as rare as it is beautiful, as Lafawndah's voice melts into wobbly cascades of marimba and brass, erupting occasionally into what might be a song, or might be something else entirely. If u thought genre was melted on "Ancestor Boy", it's been heated into lava here and Lafawndah alchemically reshapes the heaviest metals into glittering gold.
Trap gets fuzzed into baroque pop; opera is dropped hopelessly into teeth-chattering avant drone; Beverly Glenn Copeland's 'Don't Despair' is swept into a chasm of eerie synthetic doom. Really we're floored by this one - give it time to breathe and it'll creep up on u, we promise.
Bit of a special one here from Lafawndah, who follows last year's phenomenal avant-pop masterpiece "Ancestor Boy" with a record that the press release compares to Brigitte Fontaine and Scott Walker. Strong words, but actually not far off the mark: "The Fifth Season" is ambitious and bold, worlds removed from its predecessor but existing assuredly in the same cinematic universe.
Just as Scott Walker was able to pivot fluidly from vivid pop to dark, mind-raking doom poetry, Lafawndah shows herself to be equally as versatile here. The album isn't an easy listen by any means, fusing haunted instrumental elements (tuba, trombone, percussion and keyboards) with her ever-more-confident vocal phrasing. There's a blurry, surreal artistry on show here that's as rare as it is beautiful, as Lafawndah's voice melts into wobbly cascades of marimba and brass, erupting occasionally into what might be a song, or might be something else entirely. If u thought genre was melted on "Ancestor Boy", it's been heated into lava here and Lafawndah alchemically reshapes the heaviest metals into glittering gold.
Trap gets fuzzed into baroque pop; opera is dropped hopelessly into teeth-chattering avant drone; Beverly Glenn Copeland's 'Don't Despair' is swept into a chasm of eerie synthetic doom. Really we're floored by this one - give it time to breathe and it'll creep up on u, we promise.
Bit of a special one here from Lafawndah, who follows last year's phenomenal avant-pop masterpiece "Ancestor Boy" with a record that the press release compares to Brigitte Fontaine and Scott Walker. Strong words, but actually not far off the mark: "The Fifth Season" is ambitious and bold, worlds removed from its predecessor but existing assuredly in the same cinematic universe.
Just as Scott Walker was able to pivot fluidly from vivid pop to dark, mind-raking doom poetry, Lafawndah shows herself to be equally as versatile here. The album isn't an easy listen by any means, fusing haunted instrumental elements (tuba, trombone, percussion and keyboards) with her ever-more-confident vocal phrasing. There's a blurry, surreal artistry on show here that's as rare as it is beautiful, as Lafawndah's voice melts into wobbly cascades of marimba and brass, erupting occasionally into what might be a song, or might be something else entirely. If u thought genre was melted on "Ancestor Boy", it's been heated into lava here and Lafawndah alchemically reshapes the heaviest metals into glittering gold.
Trap gets fuzzed into baroque pop; opera is dropped hopelessly into teeth-chattering avant drone; Beverly Glenn Copeland's 'Don't Despair' is swept into a chasm of eerie synthetic doom. Really we're floored by this one - give it time to breathe and it'll creep up on u, we promise.
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Bit of a special one here from Lafawndah, who follows last year's phenomenal avant-pop masterpiece "Ancestor Boy" with a record that the press release compares to Brigitte Fontaine and Scott Walker. Strong words, but actually not far off the mark: "The Fifth Season" is ambitious and bold, worlds removed from its predecessor but existing assuredly in the same cinematic universe.
Just as Scott Walker was able to pivot fluidly from vivid pop to dark, mind-raking doom poetry, Lafawndah shows herself to be equally as versatile here. The album isn't an easy listen by any means, fusing haunted instrumental elements (tuba, trombone, percussion and keyboards) with her ever-more-confident vocal phrasing. There's a blurry, surreal artistry on show here that's as rare as it is beautiful, as Lafawndah's voice melts into wobbly cascades of marimba and brass, erupting occasionally into what might be a song, or might be something else entirely. If u thought genre was melted on "Ancestor Boy", it's been heated into lava here and Lafawndah alchemically reshapes the heaviest metals into glittering gold.
Trap gets fuzzed into baroque pop; opera is dropped hopelessly into teeth-chattering avant drone; Beverly Glenn Copeland's 'Don't Despair' is swept into a chasm of eerie synthetic doom. Really we're floored by this one - give it time to breathe and it'll creep up on u, we promise.