As well as making atmospheric electronic compositions, the Baghdad-born, Barcelona-based musician Dania also works night shifts as an emergency doctor. These nocturnal hours are the influence behind her new album Listless: all seven tracks were composed and recorded after midnight, while the artwork features the spindly flower of the Japanese snake gourd, a plant that only blooms after dark. But there is little trace of the chaos of her late-night schedule here: instead, the record embodies a quiet calm that is sometimes blissful, sometimes eerie.
Meeting somewhere between trip-hop, shoegaze and ambient, with a touch of pop, the textured tracks slink along dreamily, propelled by washes of synths and, for the first time, drums. A new addition to Dania’s usual setup, they lend a gentle downtempo kick to several of the songs. The shuffling, murky beat in Personal Assistant recalls the late-90s groups Scala and Seefeel, while Car Crash Premonition is the closest things get to urgent. Written after an unnerving taxi journey to her studio one night, it is both brooding and woozy, fit for a film montage.
Other tracks, such as I Know That and Write My Name, are more reminiscent of Dania’s past work: stripped back and amorphous. The closing track, A Hunger, has a subaquatic quality, with bubbling and beeping electronics that sound like hospital monitors, interwoven with distorted answerphone-style vocals.
Dania’s soft, murmuring voice is featured through almost the entirety of the record. The lyrics are almost imperceptible as her vocals are suspended, looped, layered, sometimes barely there at all. Growing up in a household where singing was frowned upon, she’s said it’s something she’s always felt private about. But it’s also an inspired choice, augmenting the dream-like haze on this gorgeous, intimate album.
Also out this month
Bitchin Bajas draw four tracks out to nearly 40 minutes on Inland See (released by Drag City). Across these extended compositions (including an epic 18-minute closer), the Chicago trio present another masterclass in lush, wandering minimalism, with chugging loops and effervescent jazz flourishes. For the last decade, Timedance (the label of Bristol producer Batu) has been a cornerstone for bass-heavy experimental dance music. TD10 celebrates this milestone with 23 chunky, left-of-centre club tracks for all times of the night, including contributions from heavyweight producers such as re:ni, Skee Mask, Pearson Sound and Batu himself (Timedance). Inspired in part by her own experiences of agoraphobia and claustrophobia, Fobia (Other People), the new album by Argentinian sound artist Aylu, is suitably intimate, sometimes stiflingly so. Close-contact recordings of strained breaths, gulps and hums build out into curious but often lovely compositions.
