From songs of the Caucasus and reinterpretations of the history of ancient weavers, through post-traditional sounds inspired by Georgia and recordings from the former Silk Road region, to uncompromising avant-garde jazz and metal and futuristic, emotional electronica — welcome to this year’s first review of new album releases.
From explorations of ancient harps from the 18th and 19th centuries, through poignant songs from Circassia and the North Caucasus, post-traditional music from mountainous Karabakh inspired by Georgia and Armenia, reinterpretations of the history of Barcelona weavers, to subtle electronica set against dystopia, avant-garde jazz and metal, and the songs of pre-war cantors set in the context of contemporary music – this album review forms a multi-threaded story about sounds that remember, question and are not afraid of emotions.
Here are the best records released in January:
JULIANNA BARWICK & MARY LATTIMORE — Tragic Magic (InFinė)
The genesis of this collaboration stems from a fascination with the analogue past, embodied in old instruments. Lattimore and Barwick found themselves at the Musée de la Musique in Paris, where the former picked up harps that allowed her to trace the evolution of this instrument over almost a century and a half, from 1728 to 1873. Barwick, in turn, chose several iconic analogue synthesizers, including the Roland JUPITER and Sequential Circuits PROPHET-5. In a free-flowing dialogue and time spent together in the city, a story crystallised – a little fairy-tale-like, a little tragic, yet full of elation – based on fairly subtle arrangements in which the artists build their magical world. Seductive vocals, sometimes reminiscent of a siren’s song, captivating yet straightforward harp parts, and synthesizers that underpin the whole create a contemporary musical story — moving, emotionally poignant, very lyrical, and, in its own way, also meditative. The duo limits itself to subtle and delicate expression, although at times it flies away like magical dust from Peter Pan, as in the final “Stardust”, which perfectly closes this musical story.
HAŃBA! HIOBA DYLANA — Za kim idziesz (Antena Krzyku)
In one discussion, I read an ingenious description of their work as “urban country” – and there is something to it. It is a theoretically metropolitan perspective, yet clearly looking beyond Warsaw and other metropolises. “Alma Mater” is a form of self-irony – it sounds like a compilation of internet hate speech and, at the same time, like a slap in the face to a know-it-all society. “Za kim idziesz?” (“Who are you following?”) is an adaptation of a Kentucky miners’ strike song, rocking and disturbing, similar to “Cumbia Zosia”, which refers to the tradition of so-called murder ballads. “Hau hau” is an accurate reference to protests on Polish streets, and it’s also frighteningly relevant in a broader, global context – look at what happened in Minneapolis. It’s a little funny, a little scary, when it turns out that old songs sound surprisingly relevant, and lyrics from one side of the globe can accurately describe reality elsewhere. And although Hańba has abandoned reinterpretations of songs from the interwar period, together with Hiob, in the aesthetics of urban folk, they comment on reality like no one else on the Vistula.
COCANHA, LOS SARA FONTÁN, TARTA RELENA — 4132314 (Bongo Joe, Pagans)
Here we have a real combo of wonderful duos. I have already marvelled at the Catalan women from Tarta Relena twice (RCKL, tQ)– their interpretations of Mediterranean singing are unique. Cocanha reminds us of Occitan culture, while Los Sara Fontan experiment boldly (I spoke with Eduard Pou a long time ago on the occasion of Za!, and I also remember how brilliantly he reinterpreted the Azorean tradition at the Tremor festival). 4132314 was created to commemorate the female workers of the former Barcelona textile factory Fabra i Coats – hence the cover and title, which refer to a numerical textile pattern. Although the voice remains the basis of this album, it does not stand out as much as in recordings made by the duos on their own; yet it makes a massive impression in moments of singing, shouting, and choral rapture. The aforementioned pattern is sometimes evoked melodically or rhythmically, sometimes becoming a starting point for rhythmic games that impose an evocative narrative and drama on the songs. It is worth remembering that this is a documentation of class struggle and female solidarity – from the original texts of former weavers, through reinterpretations of popular songs, to songs written by collaborating duos. There is extraordinary power in this.
ZU – Ferrum Sidereum (House of Mythology)
Over the years, the Italian trio Zu has developed its own distinctive language and unique expression, situated at the intersection of heavy jazz, metal, and industrial, captured in progressive yet theatrical forms. Almost 80 minutes of music are filled with a heavy, dense sound that is difficult to compare to anything else in the contemporary soundscape. The prog-rock rhythms of the drums and Paolo Mongardi’s regular juggling of motifs intertwine with Massimo Pupillo’s massive bass riffs, counterpointed by Luca Mai’s highly aggressive saxophone. The band takes no prisoners – the music is highly intense, performed with mathematical precision, where heavy metal meets avant-garde jazz solutions. Everything rushes at breakneck speed: consistently, extremely expressively, and at the same time with surgical precision. Every sound has its place here, and despite the enormous intensity, there is no question of running aground. I saw Zu live a year ago; they are just about to go on tour, and this album is an excellent summary of their current form.
NATHAN DAWIDOWICZ — FLUFF (Hell Yeah Recordings)
Nathan Dawidowicz has Polish, Lithuanian, and Cameroonian roots and grew up in an ultra-Orthodox Jewish community in Jerusalem. His latest album, consisting of only three long tracks, is rooted in both the sacred atmosphere of the city of his childhood and the Berlin club culture where the artist currently lives. Seemingly endless compositions, equally suited to the dance floor and psychedelic journeys through the meanders of the imagination, take the listener on a transcendental, introspective journey between rhythm, bass, and cosmic synthesis. Dawidowicz starts with a repetitive, trance-like motif, which he gradually develops, enriching it with ornaments and slight variations that build the narrative of this psychedelic journey. At the same time, this rhythm – meditative in its own way – carries something sacred. The artist creates a musical epic, immersed in acid motifs, that evokes infinity and immortality in a contemporary urban trance. The goal here is not dance itself, but rather loss, searching, and discovering novelty in repetition.
CANES OF KARABAKH — Canes of Karabakh (Crossroads)
Canes of Karabakh starts with the sound of the duduk – a traditional Armenian instrument with a warm, melancholic tone, strongly associated with memory and cultural identity. The trio only appears to be based on simplicity: beneath the minimalist surface lies growing tension and a rich sound texture. Dokalski’s flugelhorn hums, hoots, and creates echoes, which Bartnik amplifies with electronics reminiscent of old tapes, building an evocative accompaniment for the duduk. The project is part of the post-traditional European scene, where folk instruments function in new contexts. The duduk remains at the centre, but it is the trio’s collaboration that gives this music its power. The whole thing approaches the aesthetics of music of memory and decay, as found in the work of William Basinski, Philip Glass, and The Caretaker. Although the narrative of Canes of Karabakh is linear rather than looped, it similarly explores the transience and distortion of memory. It is a unique lament – a reflection on the disappearance of tradition, landscape, and history, and a question of how tradition can remain alive in the modern world.
Full text: Radio Centrę of Folk Culture – The lament and longing of duduk
VARIOUS ARTISTS – Music from the Caucasus – The Archive of ORED Recordings, 2013–2023 (TAL)
ORED Recordings was founded in 2013 by Bulat Khalilov and Timur Kodzoko to document the traditional music of the North Caucasus. Since then, they have recorded hundreds of field recordings at local gatherings and celebrations, focusing on the authentic sounds of mountain communities’ rituals. Circassian and North Caucasian music is based primarily on voice, memory, and social function rather than spectacle. Solo or chamber singing dominates, with modal melodies and sparse expression, where emotions are conveyed through timbre, breath, and phrasing, and instruments play a subordinate role to the voice. All this can be heard perfectly on this compilation released by the TAL label, founded by Stefan Schneider of To Rococo Rot. It features both small ensembles and individual performers, and their music also documents socio-political changes. There are laments, funeral songs, historical tales, ritual chants, and songs about work, resistance, and displacement. It is a unique picture of the borderland world, which is only now beginning to emerge into the light of day.
DIALECT — Full Serpent (RVNG Ltd)
When I listen to Full Serpent – and I listen to it over and over again because it ends quickly – I get the impression that it was created on a micro scale, precisely for the needs of winter sleep. This is not music for a booming sound system, but for a small speaker, perhaps a Bluetooth one, which you can pack into your backpack and listen to with your ear almost cuddled up to the sound. At times, it reminds me of the folktronica style of early Four Tet or Múm albums: delicate, intimate melodies in which folk does not mean acoustic sound, but subtlety – loops, swirls, emotional uplift, fragments of vocals or moving samples. There is also something of the Japanese artist Asuna here, who, in his 100 Keyboards project, brings out hundreds of children’s instruments and builds a musical world from them. A romantic, trance-like carousel with a hidden, almost imperceptible crescendo – it does not explode but keeps you in suspense until the very end. Dehumanised singing, hope. Boxed music: trying, searching, listening. It’s lifting. Well, maybe this is the best way to show how Dialect works on us with music – simple things can produce bigger feelings.
Full text: The Quietus – Dialect – Ful Serpent review
ANIA KARPOWICZ & DOMINIK STRYCHARSKI — Syrena: Re (Listen)
Syrena Records, founded in 1906 by Juliusz Feigenbaum, was one of the key Polish record labels. After a break caused by World War I, it resumed operations in 1921. It strengthened its market position, thanks in part to the introduction of electric recordings under the Syrena-Electro brand. Its activity ended in 1939, after the label was closed down by the Germans. Dominik Strycharski and Ania Karpowicz – both of whom move freely between many musical worlds – reach into its archives, creating a kind of time machine. The voices of synagogue cantors, fragments of popular songs, and processed recordings of Szmul Weinberg’s orchestra are combined with the sound of flutes, differing in both tone and performance techniques. The result is a spiritual journey through time, subjected to contemporary interpretation – combining improvisation with echoes of the past in the spirit of Basinski, Jeck, and The Caretaker. The past is not idealised here, but presented as an auditory afterimage, on which the two artists shed new light, breathing new life into archival recordings through improvisation, experimentation, and playful experimentation with form.
VARIOUS ARTISTS — Digging Central Asia: Musical Archaeology along the Silk Road (Death Is Not The End)
I like the name of this British label – it perfectly captures its guiding ideology: preserving memory. The label is not limited by genre or geography: its catalogue includes fado, Polish dark wave, Yugoslav new wave, and punk from Colombia. The music, created along the former Silk Road in Central Asia, was released last year as a mixtape and is now available as a full-length vinyl album. The album showcases the extraordinary richness of local music scenes and the creative use of folk elements in the creation of new, contemporary music. Nasib Abdullaev’s pop songs are based on melodies rooted in Uzbek tradition, Sintez reinterpret folk music through the prism of jazz and rock, and Koma Wetan combine Kurdish folklore with psychedelic rock. There is nostalgia in this music, but above all, a unique sensitivity to how inspiring local folklore can be and how natural it was to use it in Soviet republic studios from the late 1970s until the collapse of the USSR.
