Slices of the winds blister its tendrils through the gaps in the shutter doors.
Its threads latch at your arm, now bearing a goosebump shield. Synthy blades lick the dust and metal shavings scattered around the room, cartwheeling into the opening of ‘Vanity ft. Axelle Fanyo’. You turn as the knocks of the corrugated roof pick up a gust. A weight, latent, awashes you. The roof lifts in an instant as blinding light propels from Axelle’s voice into the cavernous warehouse. Strings uncoil and slither around the structural I-beams until finally embalming you in silhouette. Space Afrika release Quiet Storm, 5 years after Honest Labour. A brooding project that exhibits a breadthy coalescence of artists and collaborations. Challenging the notions of identity, class and the diaspora, the Manchester duo Space Afrika threads and bends the sounds and raw British bounds of ambient, modern classical and trip hop to form a depth of unbridled musical autonomy.
‘Crying never had a voice ft. Vanessa Bedoret’, paints the world in slow motion. As your eyes adjust to the salient light, your ears are like sonar. Building a world from the ground up by its physical and sonic boundaries. Space Afrika orchestrates this in a litany of strings amongst ghostlike field recordings. Vanessa’s angelic resonance cradles you as the sounds of rolling bicycle bells and trains clacking over their rails fills the blinding space. “You see the world through my eyes”, Alto Aria bellows above the pianos on ‘From the Heart of Knowing’. You now see the room blanketed in snow and brightness equivalent to Alto’s emotional clarity.
Klein wails and drags you deeper into the snow molded pathway through yet another shattered shutter door on ‘Ballad for A ‘G’’. The walls of this new room become molten as Klein's distorted guitar fuses to Space Afrika’s guiding strings. When the molten walls harden igneous, RXK Nephew unbinds a vulnerability and candor through lessons in his life. A monologue providing stepping stones over the molten destruction. Steam bursts through the igneous crust, as synths on ‘H00D Ambient’ sharpen to gaseous pipes. Its bite, enhanced by the pressure in the transcendent choral echoes, causes diamonds to form in its wake*.
As we reach half way through Quiet Storm, ‘Validation ft. Any’ sets an alluring, anthemic tone with a resolute monologue that is stemmed in self worth and bewitched by Any’s harp melodies and city scape field recordings. With the wind at your back down the dark, vast iron and brick hallway, A quartet of bass, keys, drums and guitar galvanises Tony Njoku’s falsetto, magnetising you to a haunting light at its epicentre, “now I'm left outside… someone come save me from the devil”.
As we reach the last 2 tracks, you remain in the industrial tunnels, reflection beckons you, clambering for a light source in the murk. Your descent into the depths of the existential and the purposeful inner monologues, is ladened by the ascent into wealth of fluid experience. Deuén nurtures this through a translucent war cry of vulnerability, unsheathed by the staccato of time. Arrhythmic snares on ‘If This Is Hell’, snap like a lighter flicking to light while erratic threats of violins encase Deuén’s incen(diary) thoughts. “Time makes me laugh i know people like it but I can never quite get the rhythm right”.
What is learnt from the former track adorns your journey through the album, Quiet Storm fuses, threads and bends thunderous and fleeting feelings, memories and interludes to life's malstructure. ‘Regards’ closes us in pianos, rain patter, synth expansion and reverie…
Words by badbitchbenny