Imara Pop 2 Items

Heiko Voss has earned near mythical status as a torchbearer for the emotional, deeply felt and quietly radical style of electronic music. The blissed-out radiance of his Kompakt Pop single, “I Think About You” remains one of the label catalog highlights and a stellar run of collaborative singles as Schaeben & Voss; others might know him for his stewardship of the excellent, much-underrated Firm imprint. But with his new album, 3:30 Minutes To Live, released by Michael Mayer’s label Imara, Voss returns after a long silence with a beautiful collection of songs that hymn heartbreak with a lusciously melodic touch.

There is something definitive and newly confident in 3:30 Minutes To Live that has it feeling like a real statement of intent if compared to his earlier releases. “Although it’s not, 3:30 Minutes To Live feels like my debut album,” Voss reflects. “All releases before were more song sketches or electronic dance tracks.” Bunkering down in Teary Eyes Studio, Voss worked up somewhere between thirty and forty sketches of songs, which he whittled down to the twelve collected here, all of them situated in a unique space, but very much in accord with Voss’s defining aesthetic, which he describes as “indie pop music with a lot of guitar, electronic elements and a great love for melancholic ‘80s synth-lines.”

Voss is sensitive to both variety and consistency – 3:30 Minutes To Live sits together as an assured, vibrant collection of pop songs, but it’s marked by all kinds of surprising incident, like the guitar solo that erupts out of “This Is My Life”, or the acoustic guitar-led melancholy of the closing “This Summer”. It’s all borne of the alchemy of the studio process and the intimate romance of music-making. “If you constantly feel a little bit like you’re in love while writing and producing your music – simply because of the sound of the synth flowing warmly and gently through the room, or because the sequence of notes awakens something in you, or even a randomly arising groove in the loop of a guitar lick makes you shout, ‘Ha!!’ – then it usually becomes a beautiful song,” Voss nods. “Those moments make me happy.”

There’s also a delicious tension between the push of the music, its melodic lushness and gliding, ballerina-like movement, and the darker currents that pull through Voss’s lyrics, inspired by a “short, dramatic and toxic love affair.” This may read like familiar terrain for a pop album, but the way Voss weaves language through both the extra-linguistic joys of music and the inarticulate speech of the heart somehow allows for direct communication that is simultaneously plain-spoken and deeply profound. “Say It” is a simple, devastatingly effective plaint of alienation; “She Wasn’t Lonely” a simple portrait of everyday living set to chiming, clacking guitars, the music in the bridge taking astral flight as the titular character ‘lets herself go.’

A smart and sharp collection of songs that captures you with its gorgeous melodicism just as it blindsides you with its aching heart, 3:30 Minutes To Live is Heiko Voss at his most assured and open-hearted best.

A download code is included.

The second release of Michael Mayer’s IMARA imprint – the self-titled debut by Juliana Martínez, recording as Servicio al Cliente – is exactly the kind of unexpected and quixotic experience you’d want from a label run by a core member of the Kompakt family. In its six gorgeous songs, Martínez teases out both joy and melancholy, her sweet pop melodies set against a backdrop of intimate, gentle, yet beautifully brave arrangements for beats and electronics.

Now based in Berlin, Martínez grew up in Colombia, the daughter of a Colombian mother and Uruguayan father, both psychiatric doctors, from whom she learned a thing or two about the joys of creativity: “My mother especially believed music had no boundaries in what it can do for your brain and soul. Like sort of what sport does to your body.” Martínez attended an all-girl Catholic school, but she also took private music lessons, from which she was expelled “since I composed melodies instead of rehearsing.” In retrospect, this experience reads like a sign of things to come.

After studying law at university, including postgraduate studies in Spain, Martínez decided to change things up: she’d already been playing in a group called Las Palabras Correctas (The Right Words), and eventually found herself embedded in a community of friendship with other artists who “always made songs and art and shared with each other in what we called the ‘Ambassadors of Colombian Music,’ a name taken from a popular Colombian TV show. These friends kept me involved and interested in my keyboards and songs.”

The lovely songs on Servicio al Cliente came to Michael Mayer via an unsolicited demo – “there was no Soundcloud or Dropbox link,” he recalls, “but a beautifully designed website containing an mp3 player. The slightly surreal artwork in combination with Servicio al Cliente’s heartwarming, somehow naive music instantly broke my heart.” There is indeed something deeply moving about these songs, possessed as they are of an uncanny charm, full of ticking rhythm patterns, levitating organ drones and gentle, luscious keyboard patterns. Above it all, Martínez’s voice sails through the air, her delightful Sprechstimme filled with offhand confidence. “It sounds like something that I’ve always known,” Mayer marvels, “like an old forgotten friend or a childhood memory that pops up in a dream.”

Servicio al Cliente reaches us fully formed, the complexities of Colombian life etched deep within its DNA. Its surface sweetness, the sensual sashay and sway of melodies like “La mujer que bailó con el diablo” or the opening “Romántico”, betrays a deeper sense of longing that inhabits the songs’ folds, evidence of Martínez’s sharp, smart awareness of the work of memory, a kind of happy-sad splendor. “I feel my music is full of a South American nostalgia,” she agrees, “and is a try to recall a wider understanding of reality which Colombia forces you to have. A bittersweet irony where most things are simply possible. I try (for) my music to sound like this feeling.” And indeed, it was in a moment of great loss and sadness that Martínez decided to share her music: “It was only when my father passed away that I pushed myself to write to Michael with my songs.”

“And Michael replied back.