by Jana Bahrich
heka, a London-based artist raised in the hills of Italy, builds a song that burns and roars with latest release (a) wall. heka’s voice is clear, clean, and cuts right through the underbelly of the track – soaring above filtered drums, muted trumpets and clean guitars. Tonally, her voice is reminiscent of Kate Stables of This is The Kit, but it carries a different kind of darkness, and it’s good – really good.
Much like a flame, the song grows slowly and steadily. heka’s cyclical lyrics coil around the piece’s centre and, as it progresses, heka and her co-producer, Ed Tullet (Novo Amor and Hailaker), carefully construct a wall of sound that insulates her voice. As more and more trumpets are collaged together, with each note played they become increasingly dissonant, swelling right up until the point of release, just as the song comes to a close.
It’s a song that is calming yet at the same time, blisters and imprints itself into your brain. (a) wall belongs in any noir film, or should be listened to during a sunset, or right as the night ends and the cleaning process begins. It’s within this state of liminality that (a) wall lies.
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