January 13, 2004
Sainkho Namtchylak | Stepmother City |Ponderosa | Tuva
buy it
One of the most powerful and innovative singers to come from any land in the past decade. Though she's unafraid to morph her staggering voice into style after style, hear her once and you'll never mistake her for anyone else.
In the "world music" world there has developed a sort of stock role for female singers--ethereal, sexy yet demure, and vaguely spiritual, their voices swimming in a reverb that implies a church, temple or ancient ruin. Ofra Haza, Gigi and Angun are just a few examples of artists who, to varying degrees, have had this sort of spiritualized makeover. The problem is that, as with all type casting, we see the type instead of the individual. Though their producers try to highlight these singers' individual ethnicities, they seem sadly interchangeable, their personalities lost in a Deep Forest.
This is a fate that could never befall Sainkho Namtchylak, one of the most powerful and innovative singers to come from any land in the past decade. Though she's unafraid to morph her staggering voice into style after style, hear her once and you'll never mistake her for anyone else.
Stepmother City opens with an short ambient introduction and then crossfades into "Dance of the Eagle," an irresistible mix of a tasty minimalist beat, funky acoustic bass and ethnic instruments that support Sainkho's syncopated verses and choruses of Tuvan overtone singing. If the album stuck with this M.O. for the rest of its length it would be worthy of praise, but Sainkho's just getting started. Over the next three tracks, she goes from lilting delicacy to Tom Waitsian growl to smooth reggae flow.
Risk taking and excellent taste aren't all that set Sainkho Namtchylak apart from her peers. There's also real spirituality here--a true individual spirit at work, not the virtualities of reverb-soaked Enya-cism. In "Tuva Blues" (recorded live at Chicago's Hothouse) Sainkho ponders her own death matter-of-factly: "So maybe I will die one day--so what? I would wish that my friends would come together and drink a little and talk. Something like, 'Ah, she was not bad person. Sometimes she was doing something that was what a woman should not do, but... ah, basically she was not bad person--let's drink.'" Listening to Stepmother City, I'm sure they'll have more to say than that.
Posted by Mack Hagood at January 13, 2004 09:58 PM