hexed!

The secret to Aya Sinclair’s uneasy mix of harsh noise and club music is its intimacy: No matter how blown out or mechanistic it gets, you always feel the presence of a regular old person behind it. The product of a teenage diet of Aphex Twin and Autechre on one hand and screamo and nu metal on the other, *hexed!* is, first and foremost, a therapeutic endeavor, fragile and balladic here (“droplets”), ragey there (“I am the pipe I hit myself with”), beautiful (“peach”) and spooky (“Time at the Bar”), and above all, extreme. And for music Sinclair has said was in some respects about her sobriety, it’s refreshingly funny (“off to the ESSO”). She isn’t reflecting on her nightmarish bad times—she’s bringing them back to life with clarity and power.

Sound bristles, foams, bursts, and oozes as the UK artist’s daring second album confronts the terrifying crush of reality. It feels like witchcraft; maybe it is.

Blending elements of mathcore and drone with gritty techno, aya’s sophomore album is a full-throttle exploration of addiction and self-destructive cycles.