Review: kariti ‘Still Life’
Way back in late 2023, just as Christmas was rearing its yearly apocalypse on all sense and morality, I was asked if I would cover an album which would ultimately burn its way into my heart, and along with it, a particular artist too.
Due for a February 2024 release, kariti’s absolutely enchanting Dheghom became a pivotal part of that yuletide period, as my main escape from the deluge of insipid festive nonsense and fake frivolity. As a parent, there’s a part of me that buys into it all somewhat, but the music enthusiast will always outweigh it with a sense of purpose and splendour at things altogether more beautiful and wondrous.
Since then, I have been busy with all of life’s trappings, and now here we are, it’s almost Christmas again, and just as things are getting a little too much for me, the phenomenal kariti is back once again to save the day. It’s another much-needed escape, and thankfully, Still Life is every bit as enchanting as Dheghom was.
It picks up beautifully from where the previous release left us; its mystical aura is spellbinding. This isn’t just an album, it’s a whole otherworldly experience. The mix of serene sonnets, comprised of piano and guitar primarily, and kariti’s devilishly intoxicating vocal atop will have you gently carried away into a different plain of existence and give yourself to the darkness.
For complete immersion, you need a quiet environment, turn it up above the ambient buzz of life, and sink in. A darkened room is a must, step away from the distractions, and allow yourself some ‘me time’ to embrace the haze.
As for the album itself, Still Life is made up of nine enchanting tracks, which all come in at around four and a half to five and a half minutes. Each composition is lovingly created, and you can feel the emotion as you listen. Genre wise, I guess ambient folk is a good guideline, but I feel like it vastly underplays what kariti does as an artist. There is an air of ambient shoegaze in the mix too, but ultimately, if ‘soft cloudy hazegaze’ isn’t already a thing, then it should be, and that’s where this lands.
It isn’t car music or busy life music. It isn’t for in the gym, or getting pumped up for a night out, and if that’s what you’re looking for, you won’t find it here. As I’ve been trying to emphasise, this is relaxing, mystical, transported away music. It reaches a higher plane of existence and is for those of you looking to be taken away on a warm, fuzzy journey to bliss.
Each composition is lovingly created, and you can feel the emotion as you listen…
Opening with Spine, an immersive little teaser, comprised of intermittent ambient noises, a little guitar, and the occasional crackle that will have you thinking the speakers are playing up, it sets the pace without dictating it. It’s only a short piece, not even a minute, but it should get you ready for what’s to come.
The first full track is entitled Nothing, funny really considering it’s the first time we get a whole song on the album, and as it rolls in, it carries over some of those atmospheric sounds from Spine. This doesn’t last, and an emotive piano opens out as those hypnotic vocals roll in. It is heightened when a slow, restrained drum joins the event, and by the time it’s at its peak, it is passionately beautiful. As it drifts off towards the end, each element falls away until only a minimal trace is left behind.
As the next two tracks play through, Stems followed by the title track, Still Life, it’s a sombre mood which leads the way. There is a slight feel of a dark occult, and the pensive, subdued tones only serve to heighten that experience. Wonderfully haunting, both pieces showcase kariti’s immense talent, especially on Still Life, which is mournful and morose, as each and every strike of the keys is like a dagger to the heart. After that, kariti explores a softer side again, and with Purge, the serenity returns. Swaithes of gentile playing perfectly accompany those delicate lyricisms for a moment of purity and bliss.
Suicide By A Thousand Cuts shatters that serenity, and in doing so replaces it with a harsher, more abrasive outpouring. The angst-ridden guitar offsets the calm, but the vocal works magnificently to soften those sharper edges. Fragile somewhat returns us to a calmer vibe, and even though the piano is still quite angsty, it isn’t as dark as previously.
All that’s left are the final two tracks, Naiznanku and Baptism, both of which are pensive and return to a slightly bleaker emotion. Naiznanku being awkwardly disjointed and yet perfectly imperfect, while Baptism is uncompromisingly heartbreaking as it plays through. The track actually goes as far as to remind me of some of Dorthia Cotrell’s solo, non-Windhand work, and it’s no wonder the pair have worked together previously, so well matched are their sonic personas.
This new album is a thing of pure beauty in all its forms. It’s a wonderful soundtrack to end 2025, and an incredible precursor to the next twelve months, which will hopefully be a calmer year all around.
Label: Lay Bare Recordings
Band Links: Facebook | Bandcamp | Spotify | Instagram
Scribed by: Lee Beamish
