You’ve heard it before: musician banishes themselves to a remote corner of the world with nothing but a guitar, a synth and their ego. They emerge a year later with an album, having ‘found themselves’ and probably grown a beard. Despite the cliché, these tales of self-exile are often behind the most interesting albums, particularly in electronic music. The likes of Bonobo, Four Tet and Floating Points have all eschewed traditional recording studios in favour of more secluded locations. On paper, the recording of Nicholas Jaar’s third album, Cenizas, was no different. According to a blog post preceding its release, “shards of negativity” were starting to infect his work, so he decided to quit smoking, stop drinking, become vegetarian and enter a self-imposed quarantine “somewhere on the other side of the world”. A sort of self-isolation, if you will. Sound familiar? The parallels between Jaar’s solitary recording experience and our current situation gives what is already an intensely existential album an unavoidable poignancy.
Jaar is an enigmatic figure with little interest in public image, but is nonetheless one of the most prolific producers in electronic music. As well as his solo efforts, he forms one half of the collective Darkside, has penned two albums under the alias Against All Logic, soundtracked two films and co-produced FKA Twigs’ latest album. Both in the studio and live, a deeply atmospheric quality permeates Jaar’s music. It demands to be played in large spaces, filling every corner with its vastness and grandeur. Like many of his kind, he can easily be lumped into the experimental genre. Rightly or wrongly, the e-word has gathered a bad reputation, often reading as pretentious and self-indulgent. Yet somehow Jaar’s brand of experimental avoids pretence. All of his projects are completely immersive experiences. He manages to create a whole other world with his music, invite us in, show us around and then throw us back out again. And Cenizas is no exception.
Opening track ‘Vanish’ eases us in with its sombre tones and haunting choral chants. By the time the menacing woodwind of ‘Agosto’ begins, Jaar has us completely trapped in this world of his. ‘Gocce’ drags us in even deeper, as a frantic piano fights with a tribal drumbeat to create a chaotic yet beautiful track. This level of intensity rarely abates, leaving little room for air. The odd, quieter tracks like ‘Vaciar’ and ‘Garden’, thus feel all the more delicate. The latter is a particularly meditative moment and bleeds into the equally trance-like ‘Xerox’. Such smooth transitions make the record twist and turn seamlessly. Jaar clearly isn’t ‘experimenting’ here; he has a precisely planned path that our ears don’t dare veer from.
His path takes us to some pretty dark places, too. Those “shards of negativity” are certainly still there. ‘Rubble’ is the clearest example of this, urgently sizzling with distress and torment. Indeed, the whole thing is a pretty unsettling listen. This isn’t an easily palatable album; both rhythms and melody are uneven and jagged, requiring a conscious effort to digest. Only final track, ‘Faith Made of Silk’, provides some respite, concluding with one of the album’s few English lyrics: “look around, not ahead”. A buoyant, almost optimistic end to an otherwise gloomy album hints at Jaar reaching some kind of inner peace after all that troubled introspection. As a listener, it feels like you’ve been through something too- a kind of sonic meditation. The cliché can’t be avoided- it really is a journey.
Cenizas is undoubtably Jaar’s most explorative, probing and accomplished work yet. It isn’t going to provide a comfort blanket in these uncertain times and it certainly isn’t one for the ‘feel-good quarantunes’ playlist. But if you’ve already taken your government-mandated walk for the day and still fancy escaping to a completely different world, Cenizas will grant you just that.
Words by Alice Williams