I find myself in an awkward position. You see I’ve already used up most of my diaphanous superlative descriptions and analogies quota for the ethereal, cantabile, MayMay, and flighty shoe gazing romantic Beach House, but than along comes the mellifluous Cuushe to ruin it all for me; stretching your humble writer to find the right words: this Japanese siren, requires a similar set of pleasing and empirical phrases to match the placable sounds found on her latest release, ‘Girl/ You Know That I Am Here/ But The Dream’.
Back from a three-year hiatus after releasing her debut album, Telepathy, this long-awaited coalesce EP threads together an harmonic set of both original translucent compositions and remixes that, for the most part, extend the soporific nature and vapourous textures. Cuushe’s voice, the centrepiece and heart of every track, lends itself well to the deconstructive experiments meted out by the cartel of ernest remixers and artists who’ve all come forward out of admiration to take part in this project.
The untainted arrangement of Do You Know The Way To Sleep, hypnotically drifts along on a bed of lazy Mellotron-esque washes and tip-toeing xylophone. Cuushe’s serenading vocals evaporate as soon as they leave her lips. Fellow compatriot, Geskia!, takes the same track apart, adding glitch-y breaks and Geiger-counter static ripples to his trip-hop remix.
I Dream’t Silence leisurely occupies the same ether as Blonde Redhead as it languorously builds towards an ever-fragile flowing crescendo of pondering radiance. Teen Daze turns this suffused paean into an 80s electro-pop style move; transducing Cuushe’s lapping indolence into an arpeggiator cruise.
9125 Days Of Sleep Waves is indulged with the original version and two remixes. Cuushe’s own whispery blueprint displays a gentler but more saddened aura; reworked and aroused out of its heady stupor on both the Blackbird Blackbird and reverent House-style, Federico Durand mixes. However the most abstract prize goes to the L.A singer/songwriter/artist Julia Holter whose syllable cut-up rendering of, Swimming In The Room, is more like a loosely coupled together series of passages and scattered ideas, taken out of synch and re-ordered to fit a strange new narrative. Coming a close second, Motion Sickness Of Time Travel – moniker of Georgia artist Rachel Evans – further muddies the waters on the ambient, Dust Of Dreams. Evans meanders and zigzags through a environmental and foley packed collage of sounds; piquing our interest just enough to make this worn field-trip of minimalism worth listening to.
Though some of these remixes may work well and prove interesting, it’s Cuushe’s originals that are the real reason you should buy into this triumvirate of EPs; her voice and dreamy sleep-inducing (hey the clues in the song titles don’t forget) musings prove illuminating.