Long before music became an industry, its primary purpose was ceremonial. For thousands of years, people have used song and sound to celebrate their communities and to worship their ancestors and deities. While today’s stars often thank God for their blessings and the nightclub remains a church for many, few contemporary albums embody a sense of the sacred like Desire Marea’s debut solo album, Desire. As one half of South African duo FAKA, Marea drew on local dance music sounds like gqom, but on Desire, their exploration of the divine takes them in a many-splendored multitude of stylistic directions, often within the span of a single track: liturgical drone, galloping club beats, existential noise.
The scene is set by the resonant organ of opener “Self Centre,” a pleasing play on “self-centered” that puts the emphasis on the core of one’s being—in other words, the soul. Exultation follows in the form of “Zibuyile Izimmakade,” which means “The Gods Have Returned” in Zulu. A galloping beat, the hoot of an owl, and Desire’s operatic falsetto come together in a wave of ecstatic energy that makes a rockpool of the chest; in Zulu, Marea sings, “The Gods have returned/To tell us to stand proudly in our light.” It’s not the only spirit-catching moment. Taking its name from a Zulu word that means “rejoice” and is used to greet one’s ancestors, “Thokozani” spans from baroque harpsichord flourishes to piano house, imbued with the dynamism of the sonic collages that Total Freedom parented and popularized in the transatlantic club scene of the early 2010s.
Of course, the divine does not exist solely on another plane. The joy of existing within a body, and expressing that freely, is one of the most sacred human experiences. In an interview with writer Lindiwe Mngxitama, Marea said they wrote the album’s lead single, “You Think I’m Horny,” during a time when they were “trying to foster a sense of...tenderness[,] even with casual interactions.” Over a goosebump-inducing marimba line and a stretch of scuffed-up trip-hop, the song prioritizes intimacy over sex: “You think that I’m horny/Baby you arouse me/And I don’t even wanna fuck you/I just wanna be with you.” There’s also a sensual reference to the anime franchise Dragon Ball Z (“You are my senzu bean, healing me/From deep within/I get up again”) and a full minute’s repetition of “squeeze me” in a range of choral tones that reach transcendent heights.
In “Tavern Kween,” healing extends to the dancefloor. Marea sings in Zulu, “Those of us who live in the night/Find home under disco lights.” Featuring a hypnotizing dance-off between saxophone, trumpet, and electric guitar, “Tavern Kween” is a slow-burn disco anthem in the vein of “Blind,” and its triumphant message is unambiguous: “Hit the floor in your full majesty,” urges Marea; “You deserve to claim your joy in the world.”
What makes Desire such a standout debut is that it sounds like an artist at home in the journey of life and in lively dialogue with their craft. A pattern of flux and flexibility runs through the album’s palette, song structures, and emotional tenor. The more somber and reflective moments, like the mindscape-evoking “The Void” and “Studies in Black Trauma,” which features potent, prayer-like bars from Johannesburg rapper Gyre, are not immune to this feeling of movement, thanks to Marea’s invigorating production decisions. The latter starts out akin to a death-metal opera and moves through several sound scenes before morphing into an aural bubble bath. Along with the London composer and sound artist Klein, Marea belongs to a new generation of independent artists approaching voice, musicianship, and performance with all the senses in mind. It’s that embodied vitality that allows Desire to speak so fluently to the mind, body, and soul.
