If you're interested at all in the intersection of ghostly, leftfield music and beat-oriented pop, then you're probably familiar with Tri Angle. Since launching about a year ago, the boutique label has pretty well dominated this dark, ethereal corner of the indie universe, introducing or helping introduce about a half-dozen of its most intriguing artists (Balam Acab, How to Dress Well, Clams Casino, Holy Other). But if you think you've got Tri Angle pegged at this point, you may be surprised by its latest release, the debut EP from Fatima Al Qadiri, aka Ayshay. A New York-based singer and producer born in Senegal and raised in Kuwait, she makes digitally processed vocal music with an unusual global bent.
Al Qadiri is also a journalist and writes DIS magazine's eye-opening Global. Wav column, which is devoted to highlighting obscure international sounds not usually covered by Western music outlets. Her own songs wouldn't be out of place there. Mixing Julianna Barwick-style vocal layering with traditional Islamic songs, she sings mostly in Arabic and builds spare, haunting tracks from her own voice. An airy falsetto in its natural state, her singing is tweaked and stretched, occasionally pitched downward to sound deep and foreboding, and stacked upon itself to create the sensation of some kind of otherworldly group chant. There are no other instruments, no beats, no gestures to pop songwriting of any kind-- it's music that lives in its own realm.
As unconventional as it sounds, WARN-U is, generally speaking, an affecting listen. Just hearing Al Qadiri recreate a version of this sacred music (which sounds like prayers, or at least the kind of hymns you might hear in a religious setting) is striking in its own right, and the addition of computerized elements creates an unsettling tension. The songs feel ancient and futuristic at the same time, like there's no identifiable place or time to pin them to. If that was Al Qadiri's artistic aim here, then she's achieved it, but in doing so I think has sacrificed some approachability. While at times beautiful and certainly inventive, WARN-U is somewhat one-note, and it can be difficult to differentiate between the three short original tracks. It's also free-form to the degree that it can sometimes be difficult to engage with.
That's where L.A. production duo Nguzunguzu come in, who close things out with a 12-minute "megamix" of the EP's original numbers. Also globally minded but considerably more playful, Nguzunguzu are a great remix choice, and they give Ayshay's material a bright, neon makeover, adding in lots of fluttering drums, handclaps, and trunk-rattling bass. This is where WARN-U is most accessible and arguably most enjoyable, since the addition of structure helps bring Al Qadiri's more avant-garde leanings back toward earth. That a key track here comes from an outside source detracts some from the overall impact, but this is still a boundary-pushing work with strong ideas at its core. Whether or not you fall for it will likely come down to taste, but at the very least, WARN-U doesn't sound like anything else.
