Your editor’s been sweltering in 105 degree heat and would quite like one of those polar vortex things right now, or at least some snow. This won’t quite do.
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[6.00]
Katherine St Asaph: A hushed enclosure of a track, vaguely eerie, kind of like Seventh Tree Goldfrapp or Kate Bush after Aerial or Laura Sheeran sometimes. These always sound quintessentially wintry to me, so the timing is perfect.
[7]
Joshua Minsoo Kim: My favorite thing about Inuit vocal games has always been the fact that they are, in fact, games. In listening to my favorite recordings, I’m still mesmerized by the interlocking rhythms between any two participants, and am consistently charmed by how they suddenly end (the most likely result: someone loses because they laugh). But while this type of vocalization may have roots in play, Jean-Jacques Nattiez firmly noted in a 1983 paper that, “Virtuosity and aesthetics are not foreign to Inuit vocal games.” Anyone who’s listened to older recordings or Tagaq’s own output would surely agree. But as with any modernization of traditional music, there’s a worry that the result will be an odd mismatch — a mere slapping of one existing idea onto another. Frankly, given the history of discrimination and racism against Inuit, and the fact that white Christian missionaries actually banned Inuit vocal games back in the day, any Inuk should be encouraged to do whatever they want with their voice. Unfortunately, “Snowblind” is a mixed bag, and it’s conflicting for reasons that are characteristic of Tagaq’s discography as a whole. She’s in fine form, as per usual, but the surrounding instrumentation is considerably less riveting. Here, the production aims for a cinematic resplendence that opts for the cheapest of ambient music pleasures — crystalline piano notes that beg you to notice their fragility, sparse cymbal work that adds a “raw” color to the atmosphere’s synthesized pleasantries, and minimal strings that round out a contrived sense of awe and wonder. Tagaq is an exciting artist, no doubt, but “Snowblind” leaves me cold.
[4]
Thomas Inskeep: Is it ambient or is it suffocating? That depends on your POV, doesn’t it? The mere fact that Tagaq can craft a song that sounds like both-slash-either is a testament to its brilliance.
[8]
Alfred Soto: A beautiful soundscape of a record, lulling if listened to for long, just right at its current length.
[6]
Edward Okulicz: It’s impossible to not be gobsmacked at the range of incredible and incredibly different sounds that Tagaq’s throat can make, exactly as you can’t not be stunned at a concert pianist or violin virtuoso. Yet other than Tagaq’s masterful use of her instrument, you’ve got generic tinkly wintry piano for the whole thing, which seems rather lacking in imagination, and it makes it harder to wonder at Tagaq herself.
[5]
Will Adams: “Glacial” can be a common descriptor for music, but rarely does it feel so apt. “Snowblind” begins with an alternating synth harmony and contemplative piano, but slowly reveals itself as a monolith of sound, made textural through Tagaq’s vocal and cymbals that crash like ice fissuring. In just four minutes, the song makes it feel as if something great has moved through you.
[7]
Iain Mew: It’s an absorbing buildup, but it has next to no payoff. As someone once wisely noted, this isn’t The Intros Jukebox.
[5]