After the release of her arresting debut EP last year, Moscow’s Yana Kedrina (aka Kedr Livanskiy) had us guessing where she would turn next. Pairing chunky beats with delicate, shape-shifting synths and her cloudlike vocals, Kedrina summons a sense of nostalgia that permeates her lo-fi techno-pop. Kedrina has cited numerous artists that have influenced her sound, and while she channels the otherworldly IDM of Boards of Canada, the rudimentary electro of Kraftwerk, and the resplendent atmospheres of Cluster & Eno on her new album, Ariadna, she’s more in line with the current wave of idiosyncratic techno producers like Patricia and Huerco S.
There’s a whisper of reverb around almost every element on Ariadna, which glues the tracks together with a well-worn patina. Transitioning from a software-only approach to classic analog synthesizers like Roland’s SH-101 and Juno 106, Kedrina maintains the aesthetic she embraced on January Sun while using era-specific equipment better suited to the windswept air that characterizes her tracks. This shift toward hardware allowed Kedrina to feel out her music differently than before—“a flow of live interaction” that she says feels more “raw and sacred” than making music purely on the computer. On Ariadna, her synths sound sweeter than ever, though her rich ideas are sometimes tripped up by a fixation on grainy texture that can feel like a crutch rather than an artistic choice.
“Ariadna” opens the album with a brightness that remains for the ensuing nine tracks, although Kedrina’s lyrics take introspective turns that belie the vastness of her production. The tunnel-vision techno on “Za Oknom Vesna” (“Spring Outside”) plunges into weightless splendor. The lush arrangement evokes a foggy, chilly spring evening, and Kedrina sings about her isolation as the earth comes back to life: “За окном весна, не зови меня, / Я всегда одна, я гуляю одна” (“Spring is in the air/Don’t ask for me/I always roam alone”). Every song on Ariadna (save the instrumental “Sad One”) references natural phenomena, and Kedrina’s techno-infused pop suggests the intimacy of a confined space while reaching toward the ineffable, like staring through a skylight in a tiny apartment.
In the moments when Kedrina holds back, as on “Sunrise Stop” and “Love & Cigarettes,” her disaffected monotone fails to highlight her talents as a vocalist. But on the title track and the vinyl-only bonus “Sunset,” she gracefully layers her feather-light voice with driving techno, conjuring dark, dreamlike atmospheres. When she lets the drums rest, the album’s ambient turns are refreshing: Both “Mermaid” and “Sad One” feature aquatic synths that are gentle and enveloping.
When Kedrina lets loose, she makes some seriously punishing tunes. The booming electro of “ACDC” features Cleaners From Venus frontman Martin Newell reciting an 18th-century William Blake poem while a crisp breakbeat rolls across buzzing synths. “Za Oknom Vesna” is dubby warehouse fare that’s both wistful and life-affirming. Both of these tracks capture the same raw power of artists like Marie Davidson or Moscow’s Buttechno (who designed the album cover), but they are subdued by gentle currents that are more suited for headphone listening than in the club.
Across Ariadna, Kedrina deftly balances punchy beats while exploring diverse rhythms and moods. She incorporates a number of styles—snappy electro, rolling jungle, thumping techno—all anchored by her wispy voice. Kedrina sings in her native Russian, which means that for non-Russophones, her vocal scan primarily as emotional resonance and sonic texture. On her 2015 single “Sgoraet,” and elsewhere across January Sun, Kedrina’s ethereal performance hinted at her talents. On Ariadna, Kedrina proves that while her voice can comfortably rest front and center in the mix, it’s just as compelling when it hides behind tumbling beats in a gorgeous, subdued haze.
