- Marina Herlop's wordless vocal pieces take on a sinister but more colorful edge on this astounding work for voice, piano and electronics.
- "Sweet nothings" is a funny phrase. It suggests that what is being said has no real meaning—all that matters is that it's pleasing to hear. In an interview with FACT, classical pianist and experimental producer Marina Herlop says the "only principle that has led my creative process has been an aesthetic one." On her third album, Pripyat, the pristine sound of her operatic singing and intricate piano playing becomes marred by abrasive electronics. It's a poetic reflection on life and loss that goes far beyond mere aesthetics.
"Abans Abans" begins like a song from her debut Nanook—just piano and voice—but an early hint of reverb here and a hesitant kick drum there suggests something more devious lies in wait. It finally comes when her voice is ignited by an intrusive onslaught of metallic sounds. On "miu," the electronic effects are more ominous than imposing. Following Herlop's cymbal-like ellipsis of "sun sun," a resonant kick drum ripples through the space as her intonations become frayed by distortion. It adds a whole new layer to the music that you feel missing when it's not there. Free of these effects, the otherwise urgent a capella "miu (choir version)" lacks the same sinister edge.
These prominent (and discordant) sounds distinguish this album from her previous two—Nanook and Babasha—and their inclusion is integral to the album's vague but affecting narrative of loss. Pripyat is named after the town in Northern Ukraine founded to host workers of the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. In 1986, the city was evacuated following the devastating accident at Chernobyl, and is still empty today—a ghost town. Herlop's made-up words, like blotted phrases from a waterlogged note, offer glimpses of a life lost. I hear "I was taken away" on "lyssof," but the "away" is smudged under vocal trills. Her words are just out of reach, on the other side of a bridge that connects our world with another.
This sense of loss is layered—not only can we not fully grasp her meaning, but her words seem to come from a brighter place than the here and now. She also shows us that loss doesn't have to be a completely negative experience, but instead a portal into a new way of thinking, being or expressing. At its lightest her voice bring to mind the eerily undulating tones of songs like Kate Bush's "Army Dreamers" or the wonderfully absurd "Galadriel" by Tetê Espíndola, where the Brazilian singer imitates rainforest birdsong.
On "lyssof," Herlop's voice leaps off the back of a dramatic piano arpeggio. She leaves a random, out of place, "la" at the end of "ubuntu," hinting at a certain mischief. And the way she sings "pi why" on "miu," is deliciously tangy. These moments fill the album with the carefree character of someone unburdened by dogma and led by an insatiable curiosity.
The closest she comes to some sort of structural rigor is through a rhythmic language called Konnakol, but even that adds color more than meaning. It's a technique rooted in the Carnatic music of Southern India where singers mimic the sounds of a mridangam hand drum. Herlop deftly tosses ts, ks and ds back and forth on her palette. The "tim, taki da tim" on "miu," for example, is like a marching band drum beat, and the "ta-deem" that follows it adds longer and deeper bass notes.
Pripyat's success lies in its endless imagination, which lights up its spare template. It reminds me of a passage in the children's book The Phantom Tollbooth where a conductor has to keep the music playing, or the world will become literally sapped of color. The music stopped playing in the town of Pripyat a long time ago, but Herlop is the composer of a new one.
From the snail bride on the cover that alludes to a story from Eastern folklore to the tracklist which jumps from Catalan (abans abans) to Yiddish (kiddisch) to Zulu (ubuntu) to the freeform vocals, the whole record brims with colorful possibilities. These possibilities lie in stark contrast to the barren limbo of Pripyat, a place that has been completely abandoned. But there is still hope. Something new can be imagined. Something sweet can come from nothing.
Tracklist01. Abans Abans
02. Shaolin Mantis
03. Lyssof
04. Miu
05. Ubuntu
06. Kaddisch
07. Miu (Choir Version)