Born Brittney Denise Parks—the 23-year-old singer and violinist known as Sudan Archives—employs an intuitive ear and an autodidactic curiosity to fuel the justifiably rapid rise she has enjoyed as a new fixture of the effervescent Angeleno music scene. Parks moves effortlessly within densely layered, glitchy, experimental folk landscapes across the six tracks on her self-titled debut EP, released this month on Stones Throw. Armed with little more than a digital looping station and a violin, Sudan Archives finds singularity and certain value in a sound that suggests both the depths of her ability and the untapped potential of the instrument itself.
Following talents like string duo Chargaux, cellist Kelsey Lu, and harpist Brandee Younger, Sudan Archives is the latest in a growing line of avant-garde, orchestral polymaths making experimental music by obliterating commonly held perceptions of their instruments. Sudan Archives’ moniker is a reference to the minor triads and pentatonic scales at the foundation of the string dominant folk of North and West Africa, which inspired her to avoid Western musical conventions in seeking and refining her own sound. Without allegiance to any particular trend and late to learning musical theory, Sudan Archives takes a decidedly percussive and improvisational approach to playing the violin. Combined with an uncanny knack for punchy lyrics, her style is the foundation for a seminal release that doubles as an unforgettable sensory experience.
The Sudan Archives EP is anchored by lyricism that mashes the swagger-drenched posturing of club rap with ’90s R&B grooves and biting introspection—best demonstrated by her one-off flip of Kendrick Lamar’s To Pimp A Butterfly single “King Kunta.” The aptly titled “Queen Kunta” is a much more spare and elegant production that plays like a warning shot beamed through the atmosphere from another dimension. lead single “Come Meh Way” is equal parts devotional chant and sassy homage to bubblegum r&b hooks, the track is a deconstructed dancehall riddim driven by claps staggered to create a rhythmic onslaught wrapped up in a rotund, buzzing low end.
The only true drawback by the midpoint of the EP is the abbreviated life of the tracks—an issue that might suggest this was a collection of unfinished ideas if the release did not feel so well thought out and otherwise complete. Thankfully, the problem is alleviated by the engagement of the repeat button. “Oatmeal” also helps, a track that boasts atmospheric production and lyrics that extract the beauty from the mundane; Sudan Archives wipes away the jarring feeling of morning routine with the dulcet tone of one sentence, as she sings “Wake up, if you want some oatmeal I got you.” Pizzicato and sweeping strings intersect with her words to wash over the listener, creating what might be best described as a cleansing effect.
The closing track “Wake Up” picks up where “Queen Kunta” and her 2014 cover of Kanye West’s “Black Skinhead” left off as a statement of unwavering confidence. She states, “I got too much swag/That’s why I ain’t got no friends/I’m too confident.” With that, Sudan Archives doubles down on the fierce independence first displayed in her approach to musicianship and conjures revolution. It’s an appropriate conclusion given that the architect of this is an emotive, lo-fi agitator poised to buck tradition and flip what you thought you knew about the violin on its head.
