Seeking extra-human inspiration for her third album, American composer and producer Lyra Pramuk cultivated slime mould. Its intricate, creeping webs provided a kind of map for Hymnal’s unusual perspective on “devotional” music, which moves beyond earthly religions to celebrate the beauty and terror of the universe. Rummaging through folk, gospel, dance and Pramuk’s classical training, Hymnal sounds like everything, all at once – a primordial soup of styles, genres and textures that is dazzling and plainly difficult to bend your ears around.
The American artist’s astonishing 2020 album Fountain was made only with digital manipulations of her voice, and a continuing interest in the non- (or nearly) verbal runs through Hymnal: breathy, wheezing vocal samples scratch against heavily processed strings, harvested through collaborative sessions with Berlin’s Sonar Quartett. On early track Unchosen, a looping bow-stroke chimes alongside burbling vocalisations to mesmeric effect, and it is startling to hear fully articulated words finally emerge on single Meridian, as if Pramuk’s mass of sound has organically mastered speech.
Complicated and dense, Hymnal demands deep listening – no bad thing – but its repetitive, jerking movements and myriad layers often become samey and numbing, with Pramuk’s fascinating ideas buried in the murk. It’s a hard-earned treat when penultimate (and aptly named) Solace offers a sweet, clear melody that flows uninterrupted, before rushing towards a frantic, polyphonic climax. Here, Pramuk’s post-classical techniques sound both timeless and prescient, and her vision for the universe feels truly welcoming, rather than alienating.
