Remscéla

You reach for your speakers; you hadn’t known them to cut out before. Now your system is playing havoc, the sound ranging left and right, up and down. You are bewitched, your sound system enchanted. Then the realisation sets in: this is bewitching, enchanting, but there is nothing wrong. This is how it should be. To deem Remscéla an album is a misnomer, for it is not a cohesive whole – not in the conventional sense – and it is not something to which you simply ‘listen’. Instead, this is an aural voyeurism, the feeling that you have stumbled across something in the making that stops as soon as it notices your presence. There are times when you are on solid ground, with nods to Lisa O’Neill, Hedy West, Bollywood; then there are times when you catch something new, something ancient and something on the wind. Mesmerising.