Francesca Coronary heart: Eurybia

About 15 seconds into monitor two of Francesca Coronary heart’s new album, the Milan artist’s veil of dizzying synths is pierced by what feels like a dolphin’s chirp. Earlier than you’ll be able to course of what’s taking place, a noise seems like magic cartoon bubbles rising and bursting in midair, eliminating their translucent spray within the course of. It’s a glittering jumble of sounds as absurd as it’s pleasant. This second appears like a microcosm of Eurybia: The place current new-age music has usually trended towards tones so tender and ethereal that they barely rise above the hum of background listening, Coronary heart refuses to let her work fade into the wallpaper. As an alternative, she conjures vivid vistas together with her glowing palette, diving headfirst into the extra whimsical aspect of recent age with a playful, enveloping contact.

In comparison with the present wave of ambient artists channeling the fragile environmental music of Japanese composers like Hiroshi Yoshimura and Takashi Kokubo, Coronary heart’s music pulls from the quirkier finish of the pool. Like older weirdo relics reminiscent of Andreas Vollenweider’s All the way down to the Moon and newer left-field classics like Spencer Clark’s The Spectacle of Gentle Abductions, Eurybia isn’t made for taking candle-lit baths a lot as it’s for experiencing dazzling, hallucinogenic visions. Synths flicker like fireflies waltzing at nighttime, whereas Coronary heart’s voice refracts towards itself in hard-panning echoes, directly inviting and disorienting. The sounds could also be silky easy, however in Coronary heart’s palms they’re additionally exhilarating—a continuously unfurling tide of melodies spilling out in all instructions directly whereas feeling eternally, peacefully nonetheless.

Eurybia takes its title from the Greek goddess of the ocean, and consistent with the theme, the album creates a lush world with the radiant colours of a coral reef. On the title monitor, Coronary heart and fellow Italian hypnagogic guru Polonius gently layer swaying marimba strains till an iridescent drone streams by, like daylight glistening beneath the waves. “L’Inno delle Oceanine alla Bellezza e alla Fortuna” is much more stripped down, revolving fully round a bewildering mallet arpeggio whose spiraling notes contract and broaden at will, dancing as nimbly as krill caught in an underwater whirlpool. Tracks like these may appear easy in the event that they weren’t so texturally wealthy with ear-tickling element; “A’Marina” verges on musical ASMR, with Coronary heart coating the tune in resplendent water droplets that shimmer psychedelically.

Coronary heart’s best power is her capability to imbue this ostensibly stress-free music with a rejuvenating jolt of vitality; her extra sedate tracks are much less impactful. “Stella Rugiada” is calming, however at seven and a half minutes, it fails to go locations that weren’t coated way back by the likes of Michael Stearns. Likewise, the closing “Argentosfere” rests too closely on its primary three-note synth arpeggio for everything of its runtime, turning up no new depths because it progresses. However exterior of those moments, Eurybia is often bewitching, a reminder of how wondrous new-age music may be when powered by each curiosity and complexity. Reasonably than merely trodding down the trail taken by seers earlier than her, the composer charts her personal approach, taking part in with the tropes of traditional new age to unlock ornate, heavenly new dimensions. In honing her craft, Coronary heart earns her crystals.