In many people’s minds, the word “percussion” is synonymous with drum kits, or at least mass-produced and recognisable members of the drum family—djembes, cajons, bodhrans, and bongos. In Ana April’s fertile mind, percussion means anything that she can use to make a rhythmic noise.
With her latest single, the gentle background beats and rhythms are formed as the result of her experimenting with such unlikely objects as a lump of clay and an old metal wash tub, noises that are percussive in its most accurate and most progressive sense.
“Unarmed and Naked” is then deftly layered up via a melodic and meandering bassline, atmospheric ebbs and flows of synth texture, and layers of vocals, many acting as instruments rather than anything that could be called direct communication.
The result is a sound that feels as open and vulnerable as the story it is telling. A story of that intoxicating, part euphoric, part fear, feeling that comes when surrendering yourself to a situation, be it a relationship, a difficult encounter, a new experience, or just, in a broader sense, life itself. And as a metaphor for life, it is fantastic, reminding us that we enter it “Unarmed and Naked” and, in a sense, leave the same way.
We hear many artists refer to themselves as DIY, mainly because they manage all aspects of their careers. But this is the DIY ethic in a more honest, creative, and accurate sense: music made from things that most people wouldn’t even recognise as instruments, used to make music so unique that most record companies wouldn’t even begin to know how to market it.
If that isn’t a Do-It-Yourself attitude, I don’t know what is.
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