Basma and Temir Alcy: NAD review – skulking, sultry French-Moroccan crew evoke this shifting season

(Stroom)Vocalist Basma and group Temir Alcy offer a dark and disorienting listen that contemplates loss and new beginnings, stoking a captivating sense of tension

The new album from French-Moroccan vocalist Basma and Paris-based group Temir Alcy comes just in time for the changing of the clocks. It’s a dark and disorientating listen, exploring themes of loss and new beginnings over swampy, downtempo rhythms. The 11 tracks here linger somewhere between folk, shoegaze and ambient, with skulking percussion, droning passages and plucked strings soaked in reverb. Opening track Belati sets the tone with its spacious, shapeshifting composition, where ghostly drones and Basma’s layered calls give way to a sluggish beat. Most of the tracks follow a similar non-structure: amorphous but with an intermittent, sultry groove, like the winding bass on Khti Sarah, or the slow, swinging rhythm on Aji M3aya.

Basma’s performance is always captivating. Singing in a mixture of Darija (vernacular Arabic) and French, she delivers poetic snapshots in sensory terms that chime with the shifting seasons: “shy light”, blowing wind and bonfires. On Rised, breathy fragments are looped and reversed into a dreamy haze, while her lilting chants on La Tourne have a hypnotic effect. On standout Al Atlal, which lumbers along like a haunted lullaby, she drifts between soft wails and stoic spoken word.

Accentuating the murky atmosphere are the textural elements which lurk between Basma’s vocals and the sub-bass, often so subtle they are barely perceptible. On Belati, traces of oscillating electronics emerge; Khti Sarah features muted flecks of oud. Disembodied field recordings shimmer and glitch like static on Aji M3aya. Cha3ouka is immediately thrown off-kilter by the percussive krakeb, offering dissonant clatter over dubbed-out whorls. On Ana Jaya, where the experimentalism peaks, the line between instruments and vocals blurs as the sound dissipates. The effect is bodily: tension you can feel, but can’t quite pin down. It’s a brilliant, heady formula.

Dalga (Zel Zele) is an exciting compilation of wonky pop productions made in 1980s Turkey, most of which have never been reissued before. Across these nine tracks, traditional Anatolian psych and pop sensibilities combine with robotic samples, hi-NRG drum programming and delirious, glitching synths. Hysterical Love Project are part of an ever-expanding pool of artists making atmospheric, trip-hop-inflected pop. The Melbourne duo’s second LP, February’s Album (Motion Ward), is a gorgeous meditation on love and longing, channelled through mumbling vocals and warm, reverb-heavy instrumentals. The quietly pulsing Thinking Woman’s Lament is a highlight. The second album from experimental dubwise group Holy Tongue is an invigorating listen, propelled by Valentina Magaletti’s ritualistic drums and scattered with haunting samples and effects (AD 93). Ecstatic, echoing guest vocals from Dali de Saint Paul add to the whirlwind on two of the tracks, but it’s the rolling instrumentals that stand out most.