Arooj Aftab had a very different record in mind when she started writing Vulture Princethe continuation of the dreamlike environment of 2018 album/siren-islands” class=”external-link” data-event-click=”{"element":"ExternalLink","outgoingURL":"https://aroojaftab.bandcamp.com/album/siren-islands"}” href=”https://aroojaftab.bandcamp.com/album/siren-islands” rel=”noopener” target=”_blank”>Siren Islands. The Pakistan-born, Brooklyn-based composer envisioned a “more intense” and “more fun” update to the fragile soundscapes of her sophomore record, she said recently. album-finds-light-in-dark-times”>NPR. But while she was still in the middle of writing, tragedy struck Aftab's world. At home she lost her younger brother Maher, to whom the new album is dedicated. Outside, a world already facing a rising tide of hatred and conflict was now struggling to cope with a global pandemic.
To cope, Aftab stretched his familiar Urdu ghazals and poetry that filled her genre-defying 2015 debut album/bird-under-water” class=”external-link” data-event-click=”{"element":"ExternalLink","outgoingURL":"https://aroojaftab.bandcamp.com/album/bird-under-water"}” href=”https://aroojaftab.bandcamp.com/album/bird-under-water” rel=”noopener” target=”_blank”>Bird under water. The closest thing South Asia has to the blues, the ghazal it is a musical form steeped in loss and longing—a subcontinental language of love both mortal and divine. On Vulture PrinceAftab melts it ghazalhis existential longing with minimal compositions that draw from jazz, Hindustani classical, folk and—in one song—reggae to create a heartbreaking, exquisite document of the journey from grief to acceptance.
Intended as the second chapter in her debut album, Vulture Prince takes its airy minimalism and craftsmanship Bird under water and strips it down even more. Five of the seven songs here are devoid of any form of percussion, buoyed by Aftab's soft-toned voice and delicate rhythm of strings and keyboards. Gone too is the traditional Pakistani instrumentation, replaced by a filigree of gentle violin, harp, double bass and synths. At the center of it all is Aftab's powerful voice, drowned in a sadness so deep it seeps into your bones.
As if to make this connection—and divergence—clear, Aftab opens the album with a new rendition of “Baghon Main,” a battle folk song with which he first started Bird under water. Her original performance was cavernous in scale, a vast space washed by layers of harmonica, drum flares and odd guitar. This version is much more intimate. Harp, violin and double bass lightly touch each other as Aftab sings of love unrequited, a melancholy captured in his opening image of empty swings swaying in the garden breeze.
from our partners at https://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/arooj-aftab-vulture-prince/
