L‘Rain – fata morgana

On fata morgana, Taja Cheek's disconcerting fourth full-length album, her intrusive thoughts run rampant. Caught between illusion and reality, the Brooklyn artist considers whether the doors that have opened for her due to her efforts have even opened at all. That fractured narrative serves as a clever trick that plays with her head, using her self-doubt to explore her constantly shifting songwriting.

While that gives the impression that fata morgana captures her confusion through bewildering, unpredictable directions, it is not as freeform as it initially appears. If anything, Cheek has every intention to make her music stick. When listening to “July 5th,” which explores weightier themes of inequality and exploitation, she switches the mood from hypnotic, aqueous folk into punchy Jamaican dancehall. Rather than feeling misled once it ends, you’re pulled into two satisfying directions at once.

Even on “With Time,” where she envelops a subtly discordant piano line, Cheek holds the promise that “sun is all we’ll see with time.” When paired against the calming, retro-futuristic electronic synths of “Borderline,” which touches on her restless desire for change, she ups the ante with looping, twitchy percussion. As the album gradually unfolds, her creative use of percussion, held down by Timothy Angulo, rolls with a momentum fuelled equally by fury and joy.

Nothing about fata morgana suggests Cheek has any intention of holding back. But when the standout track “Soulless Cycle” erupts into a frenzied outburst, it completely alters the album’s tenor. Sharing a similar energy to Feels-era Animal Collective, the track repeats the phrase “I'm a psycho cycle” over and over, accompanied by a synth motif, before it spirals into pummelling noise rock. On an album full of surprises, with the sultry groove of “Birthday” following shortly after, Cheek really lets her instincts take over.

Through all the tumult that consumes her, Cheek owns her choices. Once the mesmeric closer “Church of No One” dials down the temperature, she can only compartmentalise, resolute in taking stock of her life: “I feel realer these days/with no body.” While her arc culminates somewhat open-endedly, Cheek’s fluid inner world is always fascinating to behold.

Fata morgana is out now via Mexican Summer.