Dva

Bristol-born Emika first honed her sound in Berlin (she set up shop there after her bank gave her a free flight) after discovering the early(ish) incarnations of dubstep in her native city. Whilst soaking up the electronic history of Germany’s capital, she sculpted a debut LP. She fused the titanic lurches and disparate beats of dubstep with classical sounds, 90s trip-hop and beautiful vocals – while it never garnered the commercial acclaim that Magnetic Man, Alex Clare or Jakwob had, she still made her mark on the genre, exorcising inner demons via Burial-style electronics. So now that dubstep is pretty much six feet under, where does that leave Emika? Well for a start, she was never strictly bound by the genre – there were other facets to her and other doozies in her repertoire that had appeal, and she had room to evolve. On Dva (Czech for the number two), her sophomore album, she harnesses some of the power of post-dubsteap á la James Blake or Jamie Woon (as on ‘Mouth To Mouth’), but she also imbues her icy electronica with more pop noises (‘Sing To Me’) and a healthy dose of classical sounds (‘Dem Worlds’). There’s a heady trance feel; there’s a rave aspect that begs exploration. There are times that the electronics are so skewed and serrated, it’s almost reminiscent of the Green Wing soundtrack, like on ‘Searching’. She ably escapes the confines of a dying genre by producing something far more unique. ‘She Beats’ is a glitchtronica cut with staccato synth stabs and the familiar low rumblings of dubstep bass – there’s no oppressive wob-wob-wobbing though, and it remains tightly coiled until the breakdown. Emika’s brooding operatic voice is distorted and smothered with darkness; the whole aesthetic of the track recalls Crystal Castles in their more relaxed moments. ‘Primary Colours’ is string-led pop with sparse percussion and sawtooth bass. The word ‘gothic’ springs to mind (not in the truest sense), but it’s got the morose, ominous synths and the kind of bitter words that inspire images of wrought iron candelabras and phantoms with masks and becobwebbed crenellations: “My life’s a dream, but I am awake/ I want to scream/ My life’s a dream.” One of the only real letdowns is the redundant cover of ‘Wicked Game’, originally by Chris Isaak. Fast becoming one of the most covered songs in existence, there are few ways to make a new version original, or even have a go at updating it, without treading well-worn ground. If she really needed to include a cover (which she didn’t), then there were many other songs in the history of music to choose from. On a record with fifteen tracks, it seems like something that could’ve been severed in the editing process. It would’ve worked as a B-side. ‘Sleep With My Enemies’ is a goth-step pleasure. The gentle tick-tock beat and earthquake bass jar with her Romantic voice and screechy synths. It’s a maudlin effort caked in reverb, pop hooks and glorious words: “I sleep with my enemies, they’re the ones with passion for me.” ‘Fight For Your Love’, thankfully not a Cheryl Cole cover, wields shards of electronica coldness and booming kick drums, viciously piercing Emika’s R&B-tinted vocals. Perhaps an odd inclusion, ‘Hush Interlude’ features the pipes of Czech opera singer Michaela Šrůmová battling with an orchestral lament. It doesn’t sound like anything that should fit in with an electronica/goth-pop/post-dubstep LP, but it just does – it’s almost like a caricature of Emika’s sound made organic. Emika’s Dva hints at a Zola Jesus-y direction with her sound. Flippant vocal flourishes and macabre electronics are maybe not what people would expect from her second album, given the ballsy drops of her debut, but it flows well. There are enough threads between the two records for you to realise that it’s still the same artist, but enough differences that she’s surely shed her first-record-pigeonholing and evolved. ‘Wicked Games’ is a weak link, and it’s bloody long, but they’re the only real missteps. Aside from those minor gripes, Dva is excellent.