Centred around the transition from one chapter to the next, Nilüfer Yanya’s My Method Actor frames the inner intensities of simply being human. The London singer-songwriter’s third album contains stunning musical contrasts, reaching a maturation in her personability.
Opposing forces glide through Like I Say (I Runaway), on which is all is melancholic – I’d say “restrained” but “poised” is the right word – except for the precipitating fuzz on the chorus, an appropriate ode to time’s essence. The title track is similar but Yanya herself amps up on the chorus, alongside comparable distortion. The song packs melody (something to feast on amid the textural swells); bittersweetness never sounded so catchy.
Mopey and emo, Binding survives on conflict; a soft guitar and drum loop deliberately contradicts Yanya’s growing pains, lyrically and via the raging twists of her voice. While Mutations is often hollower, Yanya offers contrasts through her voice alone, a voluminous whisper that incites cryptic advice such as “old sensation, don’t let them in, let go, hold that vision”. She ascends as she speaks her shadowy mind.
Inspired by Greek mythology, Call It Love is a tidy breed of interlacing moods; the saddest acoustic guitar, the grooviest bassline. Wingspan’s role as the finale is essential, a moment of resolve in which every instrument and every voice feels at peace with one another, drifting.
My Method Actor also comprises much of Yanya’s most fleshed-out songwriting and dynamics. A song like Made Out of Memory will hijack the listener’s emotional state with a gently uplifting chorus, but Keep On Dancing whole hogs, chiming along with vocal harmonies as enchanting as they are rough around the edges. Yanya’s idiosyncrasy is embraced by tried chord progressions, alienated by their minor key, accepting the anger and resentment that torments her lyrics.
The chorus of Ready for Sun (Touch) adopts a sudden tear-jerking disposition on the chorus, met by a lone violin reminiscent of Sleater-Kinney’s Memorize Your Lines, only less punk, capturing the shame of not being out there in the world. Faith’s Late uses its violins similarly.
Producer Wilma Archer (Will to his friends) is due the utmost credit for implementing several of the album’s psyche-twisters, through dynamics and juxtaposition. Yanya’s debut on Ninja Tune is her transcendent best, a completionist’s indie pop album that forms excitement from emotional complexity.