Marjana Semkia – Sirin

Progressive Pop | Chamber Pop | Gothic Folk

80%

 

How you feel about something looking back, and how it feels in the moment, often paint two very different pictures. Memory is inevitably far more spotty and subjective than reality. Our brains process an incalculable amount of information on a daily basis, much of it merely detailing the mundane comings and goings of daily life. We can’t possibly retain all of it, so these humdrum bits are the first to be forgotten, we only need the important parts. But, which are the important parts? Often we only remember the parts we want to remember, and our perspective on the past can be heavily skewed as a result. It’s how one minor mishap is able to drag down an otherwise perfectly fine day, and how our memories of school prioritise playground adventures over classroom tedium. 

The same selective thinking also applies to how we engage with art. A TV show that botches its ending can overshadow all the great episodes that came before. Perhaps one great action set piece in a movie will be enough for you to overlook its poor pacing and clunky dialogue. In the world of music, a safe route around this problem can be found through consistency and/or clever sequencing. Looking back, consistency was one of the greatest strengths of Sleepwalking, the debut solo album from Iamthemorning’s Marjana Semkina. Her progressive dark folk sound may have pivoted slightly between haunting and theatrical from track to track, but you could comfortably rely on that distinct brand of sombre elegance being delivered to a high standard at every turn. Marjana’s sophomore album Sirin meanwhile is a far more varied affair – for better and for worse.

The record starts off strong with its phenomenal opener ‘We Are The Ocean’. One of her most lush and cinematic tracks to date, with engaging and accessible vocals and a rich orchestral arrangement. Yet somehow all this splendour is still overshadowed by the real star of the show; one of the best guitar solos I’ve heard in the past decade. The speed and elasticity of it, how it’s able to conduct all these rapid hairpin turns with such grace and playfulness, feels like watching a hummingbird in flight. The following track ‘Lost But At Peace’ meanwhile offers the album’s most opulent and elegant string arrangements, providing such a deep, varied and expressive backdrop for Marjana to play around with. Yet the third track is not the charm, as this album’s opening winning streak ends abruptly thanks to ‘Anything But Sleep’. 

As a big Caligula’s Horse fan, the album’s duet with the wonderful Jim Grey had the potential to be something truly remarkable. Instead that potential is largely left on the table. After such grand and interesting arrangements preceding it, ‘Anything But Sleep’ feels remarkably sparse. What’s more the vocal performances could have done so much more to fill that void, but instead play things too safe. What little is here offers the building blocks of an enticingly eerie vibe, but as a whole it all feels underdeveloped in every aspect. Thankfully the album’s second duet, ‘Death and the Maiden’ with Antimatter’s Mick Moss, is a far more fully realised artistic statement. Though unfamiliar with Mick prior to this, I found his gritty Eddie Vedder-esque tone provided a delightful contrast with Marjana’s crystalline siren song. The track’s extended outro provides Sirin‘s most heavy and progressive instrumentation, with the incredible rhythm section building a wall of sound brick by brick that matches the intensity and detail of the strings alongside it. 

Sirin has its moments, I love the melodic cadence to the vocals on ‘Angel Street’ and the expressive understated bass on ‘The Storm’, but there are sporadic lulls where I’m left wanting. Sleepwalking didn’t reach the same highs for sure, but it consistently delivered engaging arrangements, and the same is not always true here. Lyrically it also feels more broad and abstract, as opposed to the personal depth of Marjana’s other solo work and the gothic storytelling of Iamthemorning. Here we come to where reality and memory diverge. In listening I find myself occasionally wishing for more, frustrated at songs that could have been fleshed out further. And yet, whenever I step away, these moments of mundanity soon disappear from my memory. Sirin‘s highlights are the parts that stay with me, and the parts that keep me coming back.