By | November 17, 2017

British novelist C.S Lewis wrote “the first demand any work art makes upon us is to surrender. Look. Listen. Receive. Get get yourself out the way”. Ibeyi’s gorgeously reflective sophomore album Ash demands such compliance listeners. The French & Afro-Cuban sibling duo (Lisa-Kaindé and Naomi Diaz) follow their critically-acclaimed self-titled debut with a project that explores themes  racial injustice, feminism, survival, defiance, isolation and love. While Ibeyi was a glorious introduction to the duo’s Yoruban roots and Santeria-centered spiritual invocations, Ash is a bit more anchored in the affairs the tangible world and its turbulent times.

Album opener "I Carried This For Years" demands complete submission to it’s arresting meditative chants and haunting ethereal harmonies. A sample "Dragan I Slavei" by Le Mystere Des Voix Bulgares loops in the background, accompanied by a dramatic and pronounced synth bass. "Away, Away" seamlessly follows; centering Naomi’s bata and cajon percussions, with jazzy synths and harmonious chanting. Lisa sings, "Why should I be racing?/My fate flames" with such devastatingly beautiful sincerity one can’t help but pose the same question themselves—long after the song ends. "Deathlessis an arresting narration Lisa-Kaindé’s harrowing encounter with a white French policeman when she was 16 yrs old. Recounting that experience she sings; "Do you smoke?/What's your name?/Do you know why I'm here?/(She was, she was)Innocent/Sweet sixteen/Frozen with fear/You're not clean/You might deal/All the same with that skin." Kamasi Washington’s tenor saxophone brilliantly punctuates her anger and fear while a rousing chorus defiance asserts, "Whatever happens/whatever happens/we are deathless."

"No Man Is Big Enough For My Arms" presents Ash’s only arguable misfire. Ibeyi’s hypnotic vocals and synchronism act as background players for the sample an Michelle Obama speech given during a campaign rally for Hillary Clinton. “The measure any society is how it treats its women and girls” That commanding line from the former FLOTUS is looped throughout the track along with other snippets and accentuated with bata percussion. While a sincere celebration feminist ethos, it’s the most impersonal song on the album. Things quickly recover with "Vale," a lush, heartwarming lullaby and ode to innocence and creation. The mood sharply intensifies with the stunningly minimalist "Waves." On which Naomi achingly belts "My blood, my eyes/My guide, my spine/waves/waves/waves" on the song’s chorus.

"Transmission/Michaelion," the album’s longest fering, is a 6 ½ minute journey that is nothing short transcendent. Featuring Meshell Ndegeocello on bass and an appearance from the IMDC Choir on the choruses, it’s comprised two parts: "Part I – Transmission," is the more urgent half. Naomi leads, soulfully singing revenge, loss, sin, and retribution before receding into brief silence. Excerpts from Frida Kahlo's diary being read by the duo’s mother Maya Dagnino transitions to "Part II – Michaelion"; where Lisa breathlessly croons about the change the seasons and the mystery possibility said change presents—all over a percussion-laden uptempo track. American poet Claudia Rankin joins the duo’s melodious chants for "Michaelion’"s interlude. She recites a line from her 2014 book Citizen; An American Lyric: "I don’t know what the water wanted/I don’t know what the water wanted. The outro is another line courtesy Kahlo’s journal:  "Pies para que los quiero si tengo alas pa' volarwhich means “Feet—what do I need them for if I have wings to fly?"

"Me Voy (I’m Going)" is sung entirely in Spanish; a cumbia-esque track with infectious synths, auto-tuned vocals, and uptempo melody. Assisted by Spanish rapper Mala Rodriguez, it details the heart wrenching decision to leave a dear lover in pursuit a better future. It’s the duo’s most pop centered release to date. Pianist Chilli Gonzalez is featured on When Will I Learn, a commanding and percussion heavy song that laments repeated mistakes and Numb -rife with Lisa’s airy vocals, is a vulnerable admission to feelings isolation and longing. On the title track and the album’s closing number, the duo revisits the Yoruba chanting similarly  heard on "Elegguafrom their previous album. Alternating between Yoruba and English, "Ash" is an urgent admission pain, and a call for rebirth and action.

Completely unencumbered by the conventional, Ash is an album that pushes and pulls; striking and caressing the full gamut human emotion. It’s  painstakingly constructed, evocative and ethereal. Ibeyi doesn’t just create music that strives to transcend boundaries—they create music as if they were never made aware these boundaries in the first place. While a great many things can be said about its varying components and masterful composition, at its core Ash is simply a breathtaking work art that inspires nothing less than absolute and splendid surrender from all who are fortunate enough to hear it.