Lines that Shimmer, Ebb and Flow: Olicía’s “Liquid Lines” (Violet Version), la revue.
Do you need to be revived? You might after taking in Liquid Lines, Olicía’s arresting full-length debut.
Olicía is one of the most exciting jazz vocal duos working today. What’s that, you’ve never heard of Olicía? Well allow me.
Olicía is the moniker of Fama M’Boup and Anna-Lucia Rupp, two gifted writers, arrangers, and performers who met at the Dresden Royal Conservatory in Germany while honing their musical skills and deepening their artistic intuition. Their love? Jazz. La technique? Singing, humming, chanting, tapping, bells, beatbox— pretty much anything that can be utilized in a live, looped performance setting. If you ask me, Olicía makes oral electro jazz. But whatever you call it, their music is kewl. Presently, they split their time between Copenhagen and Berlin (with a couple toes in Dresden), but I suspect London, New York, Los Angeles, and Hong Kong can’t be too far off on the horizon.
Ja, Olicía is that good.
They describe their sound as “fragmented, electronic soul or gospel” and/or “playful multilingual Global Pop,” interlaced with the “deep emotion of Folk Music.” (EEK! Fear not. Think folk music in the widest sense possible). In essence, Olicía make spur-of-the-moment jazz. On Liquid Lines, spontaneity undulates, ricochets, and reverberates. Sometimes wavy, sometimes warbly, these songs are ballasted with just the right touch of régimentation. Did I mention Fama and Anna take chances? Lots.
Here’s one: the record comes in different forms. In one guise, it’s a double album, but it’s only got 10 songs. Wait, what? That’s, like, 5 songs each disc, right? Nah. First, there’s the Orange Version (LLOR), whose 10 tracks are up at major streaming services now. Then there’s the Violet Version (LLVV), the one I review below. You get those 10 tracks when you buy Olicía’s full-length debut on vinyl or CD. (I bet it sounds sweet on wax.) Each ‘version’ contains the same 10 songs, but don’t be fooled: they’re not the same. What is this, some kind of remix thing? Nope. Just two jazz improv maestras at work.
Below is my review of the Violet Version of Liquid Lines. Orange is cool, too, and I might offer some reflections about it later, but let’s be clear from the get-go: up-and-coming artists need all the support they can get.
Buy Liquid Lines. You won’t be disappointed.
Olicía’s debut LP is a delight.
Track 1: “Blue Hour”
In the opener, affected synth and aural textures evoke the coastal atmospheres suggested in the lyrics. Some impossibly delicate beatboxing builds tension as the song settles into the second verse. Harp-like plucking elevates the mood, gently coaxing us ever upward. Liftoff!
I’m not sure who takes the lead on “Blue Hour,” but I am certain I’ve never heard anyone play with two syllables like this before. The word higher is delivered with daring vocal modulation. Initially, these pitch bends had me groaning. I mean I was hanging on for dear life! But it turns out they’re just blue notes, and that’s très apropos cuz Anna and Fama are swimming through their ‘blue hour’ — dawn, dusk, hope, desire — whatever one finds there, and more. The pitch-play in higher envisages a sea bird taking flight. I soar right along with them. One track in it’s clear we’re in good hands.
“Outer Space,” track two, counts in auf Deutsch (eins, zwei, drei; vier, fünf, sechs) while finger percussion and some properly subdued bass create a taut foundation over which Fama and Anna bob, warble, and weave. Gently testing the confines of melody, harmony, rhythm, and breath with a twang of synesthetics (“I hear colors, I see sound, I swirl”), these maestras cut a delicious aural experiessence on “Outer Space.”
Here’s a confession I’m pleased to report: “Outer Space” is the first piece of recorded music that inspired me to try out a new mode of listening. Beginning with some decent near-field monitors, I donned a pair of studio headphones and blended the two. The result was fantastic: full, defined lows, clear mids, and crystalline highs that reveal a rich multi-dimensional soundstage. But more than that, “Outer Space” changed me. Behold, the power of art. Behold the power of Olicía.
Crystal Clear Top-Tier Production
Be it on speakers, headphones, earbuds, or a generic Bluetooth box, Liquid Lines sounds great. These 10 tracks unfold exquisitely spacious soundscapes. Moreover, this record is a vocal lover’s dream: crisp enunciation, subtle breaths, sighing (was that a grunt? I know I heard a groan. Is someone moaning?) — it’s all here, lushly captured. While Jakob Hegner aided and abetted the mixing process, Jacob Korn handled the tape mastering. (Associated with TailOut Studios, Korn has been making waves on the Dresden underground for a few years). Bottom line, the production values are superb. They undergird Olicía’s compositional strategies and enhance Fama and Anna’s instictive performances. Liquid Lines breathes. There’s space for everyone and everything. Le résultat? It shines and offers divine aural excursions. Olicía might help you rediscover what it means, or can mean, to be human. For me, that’s what great art is all about.
Yō, Olicía is crazy good.
There are moments on this record when I felt the knee-jerk reaction to dredge up that worn-out adjective intimate to describe what I heard, but I hate relying on it. And yet from the performances Anna and Fama give, not to mention the numerous guest musicians, techs, and engineers, everyone involved with Liquid Lines contributes to the reinvigoration of the dusty words reviewers too often turn in those rare but highly sought-after moments of jaw-dropping speechlessness.
Creatives who replensh the wor(l)d?
In Olicía’s case, oui.
While these songs gesture toward the universal, they remain fimly anchored in the personal. The themes Fama and Anna explore are refreshing, touching, and never schmalzig. For example, with its persistent and reassuring “Now is the moment to breathe, my love/Now is the moment to rest,” the breakdown in “Preferences” is not only an expression of kindness, it is what anyone who feels deflated or beaten down by the pressures of everyday life longs to hear. In other words, “Preferences” sounds like salve feels. Along the way, Fama and Anna conjure a salvo of ‘tropical’ sounds, which underscores — rightly or wrongly — the global circulations of people, languages, cultures, and sounds that have been underway for centuries. Closer to here and now, “Preferences” reminds me of artists on Peter Gabriel’s Real World label back in the 1990s. In that sense, Olicía stand among the titans of so-called world music, a genre label I’ve never much cared for. While their music spans numerous genres, Olicía might be hinting at new ones. Is this Real Whirled music?
“Preferences” sounds like salve feels.
Track four, “Texture of Words,” begins with a kind of looped doo-wop adventure, including an exhalation that serves as the song’s rhythmic base. Lyrically, this tune addresses the impact of words, especially unspoken words, where that which goes unuttered often matters more. The rider describes the song as minimalistic, but I’m not sure I agree. The last minute features a cascade of vocal rhythms tastefully effected with delays and some downright intoxicating singing. Is this minimal, or is it masterful? Undoubtedly, “Texture of Words” demonstrates Olicía’s ability to weave tenuous sonic landscapes. Here, as elsewhere on Liquid Lines, the duo pushes the songwriting envelop. Are there verses? A recurring chorus? A Bridge? Not that I can tell, but Anna and Fama embark and return often enough to provide structure. I never want to skip ahead. Au contraire, I’ve already hit repeat four or five times.
With its overt allusion to liquid lines, “Water” could easily be the title track. It’s also the song that resonates with me most. The vocals here evoke Norah Jones’s Come Away With Me as much as Johnny Nash’s 1972 classic “I Can See Clearly Now.” In the spirit of jazz, Fama and Anna vamp on Nash’s melody to take it in new directions. The difference, however, are the sparse elements that hold “Water” together: a vocal bass pulse, some soft humming, tapping, and a well utilized güiro (I think), none of which strikes me as digital tricks. That’s becaue Fama plays the asalato (or kashaka), a West African percussion instrument consisting of two gourds filled with beans, and both ladies utilize the qarqaba, a type of metallic castanets from Africa’s western Sahel region. These instruments impart Liquid Lines with a twinge of the sublime.
Bubbling up from the past, “Water” feels like transcultural music. The song emanates from multiple places, crosses borders, and speaks to many more. Which makes sense because water is a universal symbol. Without it, nothing we can ever meaningfully know is possible. Could it be that Olicía’s hi-tech loop-based aesthetic is inextricably tied to rhythms that have been reverberating for centuries? Yes — for in a real sense, Olicía channels musical activity out of Africa, through the Caribbean, into the Americas, across the Atlantic to Europe, and back out again in a reverent act of recreation. While ‘recreation’ can be read as ‘making again,’ it can also be understood as creating through play. Olicía excels at the latter. I’m not particularly religious or spiritual, but there are moments on this album where it felt like the heavens had opened and angels were not only singing but singing for me. That’s quite an achievement, I think.
OK, I get it, you dig this album. Any criticism?
In retrospect, the mildly discomforting experience I had on “Blue Hour” is totally (and tonally) fine because I prefer art that challenges my understanding of what it — and with it, the world — can be. Disorienting aesthetic experiences allow us to reorient ourselves and, in that process, reconfigure how we know the world. But that’s the point of art, isn’t it? Everything else is Ikea.
I reckon “Blue Hour” was inspired by a late night or early morning down at the coast. Exactly which is anyone’s guess, but the song conjured another coast — namely, the one in me: that ever-shifting, blurred edge between what I know — my lived experience (always summoned through reflection) and what I am in the process of becoming. In other words, that flickering, effervescent thing we call reality. If you dig art that instigates deeper reflection, this album does that and more. I’ll refrain from babbling on impressionistically about each track. Instead, I’ll just say that Liquid Lines is easily one of my favorite releases of 2021. The Bug’s Fire is another, but that’s another story.
Best album of 2021? Yes, Olicía really is that good.
Ask anyone about their favorite music and they are bound to claim it speaks to them on some profound level, but something unusual is afoot here. The more I spin Liquid Lines, the more it feels like I’ve been invited into Olicía’s home — like I’ve been offered a cool, soothing drink and some comforting snacks. Sonically and lyrically, there is much nourishment here. While each version of the album contains the same titles, the lyrics to some of the tracks on the Orange Version are in different languages. For example, “Préférences,” is sung in French, hence the morphology. In the process, Fama and Anna explore different feels, flavors, and flairs. Whatever language they sing in or accompaniment they weave, Liquid Lines cleanses and revitalizes. Seriously, head over to their Bandcamp page and buy a hardcopy of the album. The Violet Version will revive you. Let it. You deserve it.
The Violet and Orange versions of Liquid Lines are wholly different imaginings of Fama and Anna’s material. In essence, there are ten songs spread across two discs, but you really get twenty tracks. (That’s what Germans refer to as a Schnäppchen!) To be sure, you could spin the 1s and 0s off the mix up at Spotify, but why be so krass? Besides, you’d miss out on Violet’s gorgeousity, and that would be a low down dirty shame because in terms of lyrics, instrumentation, grooves, and collaborative partners, some very talented folks contributed to this record. If you buy the record, you can learn more about them in the liner notes.
Socials and Booking
Here’s another confession: I first caught Olicía live on stage in Feb 2019 at Bandstand, an annual event held at the Festspielhaus in Dresden-Hellerau that showcases regional talent. It quickly became apparent after one or two songs why the organizers booked them: Fama and Anna are crazy talented. They seem to make music effortlessly, which to me is always a sign of True Masters. If after taking in Liquid Lines you’re left wondering whether or not they can pull their magic off in a live setting, rest assured they can and do. Olicía is just as convincing in concert as they are in the studio.
Follow Olicía on Facebook and Instagram or visit their Bandcamp page for exclusive releases. If you need a visual aid, there is a video for “Go Go Go” on YouTube. If you like what you see and hear and want to book them (I’m looking at you London, New York, Los Angeles, and Hong Kong), contact Lars Hiller at management@oliciamusic.com. I’m sure he’d be happy to set something up.
Whatever you do, buy Liquid Lines on vinyl or CD. Not only will you get both versions of a very intriguing album, you will support two immensely talented artists and their deft crew of collaborators. In fact, you might spend a good portion of your day looking up the musicians Olicía worked with on this record, many of whom are still relatively ‘underground.’ If discovering talented new artists is your thing, seeking out Olicía’s full-length debut will be time well spent.
I promise.
Note: Got an album that needs reviewing? Drop me a line. Jazz, pop, metal, country, hip-hop, whatever — I’m down with it.
