The vast majesty of the cosmos is hard to understand. It’s this massive area that we find ourselves in the middle of; a tiny bubble of breathable air within a vast distance of nothingness that remains uncharted. What little we do see of it, the nebulas and planets, is often of breathtaking majesty and colourful beauty. Religion and science go hand in hand charting the opportunities of this endless stretch that will remain mysterious for millennia – good opportunities for science fiction.
Afrofuturism is particularly interesting when it comes to the human attempt to chart the cosmos, as it uses the African diaspora to pose deeply spiritual questions of what it means to be Black, and translate that into an abstract aesthetic where narrative is, ultimately, unnecessary. While Nala Sinephro seems on the outskirts of such complex systems – with her jazz compositions relying on numerical values in their titles and minimalist humility within their expression – she certainly feels like one of the quintessential artists to attempt this approach.
Her place in the lineage of Afrofuturism doesn’t come via manifesto or costume, but rather by using instrumentation to suggest a vast distances, alien beauty and new worlds. Born in Brussels but of Martiniquan and Guadeloupean heritage, Sinephro’s playing is incredibly cool and weightless, with a hint of tropical leisure. On her 2021 debut album Space 1.8, she showcased a deep understanding of fluent piano melodies that become intertwined with spacey keyboard drones to suggest interplanetary travel and alien flora. However, Sinephro’s most passionate delivery comes with the electric harp, which lends her work a deeply spiritual note.
Where Space 1.8 was, most of all, a great, nocturnal jazz record that felt as if fallen out of time, the slightly more fusion oriented Endlessness possesses a somewhat more retro-futurist tone that ultimately feels very modern. What used to be more ambient oriented synthscapes now transform into the bubbly micro-rhythms familiar of late 70s Krautrock, or even wave, and give the 10 “Continuum” titled tracks a certain edge. While there’s still a quality of floating leisure present, the record allows its players to get a little more cubist – add short bursts of hiccups and breakdowns.
These moments are incredibly nuanced, as Sinephro chooses to contrast them with other sweeping movements. The edgy drumming of Black Midi member Morgan Simpson on “Continuum 1” is soon met by silky orchestral strings, while Ezra Collective player James Mollison’s saxophone glides alongside Sinephro’s choice of soft organ tones. The hints of Japanese aesthetics in “Continuum 2” meet glitchy, Jon Hassell-esque sounds of squealing ambience – with both finally stepping behind a gorgeous orchestral moment.
Especially Sinephro’s harp is gorgeous in these tracks: like fluid light that suddenly bursts up within a room, it slowly expands itself over the structures, gorgeously adding softness to the textures. It would be curious to ask Sinephro if her instrument’s use has to do with her exploration of field recordings in Martinique over the lockdown period: there’s a similar incidental quality to her playing, often sudden and filled with a great harmony of internal logic that is only found in nature. Her organ and synthesizer work is more constructed in comparison, like human architecture, or the lightspeed response of brain neurons.
There’s also a brilliant use of vocals which appear effortlessly in the background during “Continuum 4”. They suggest a spiritual presence, as each additional element (the quick and sharp synths, the hidden smooth organ, the sweeping strings) seems to slowly dance around them. Ironically, moments like this give Endlessness similarities to Kraftwerk’s early masterpiece Ralf & Florian – their own attempt to create genuinely German, futuristic jazz music. In turn, it’s possible that some of the edges here suggest a strong influence of Sinephro’s chosen home London, famous for its abstract configurations of sound in post-punk and industrial. With this record, these two genres share a sudden burst of nervousness and interest in cultural diversity: nothing is static, and creativity is derived by the opposite of cultures.
Observe how “Continuum 8” opens with a dreamy shade of This Heat- or even Radiohead-like electronica (both of course students of Kraftwerk), and you will easily find this modernist eye for tension. Of course, that particular track finds yet another sharp contrast, as it evolves into a reggae drum rhythm, slowing down the song’s aura considerably.
This tension is palpable throughout, no matter how smooth the music’s journey outwardly seems. Space 1.8 seemed to mostly observe a slow, steady glide – yet even with Endlessness featuring a lone female astronaut on the cover, it gives off the sense of a more active and complex experience. Just listen to “Continuum 7” – there’s almost a dialogue-like dynamic between the various movements of synthesizers and the lead, like a person coming across some odd fauna on a distant planet that interacts with them, all while the elements and flora do their thing.
Representing cycles of rebirth, the album also has a curious ending: following the busy synthesizer patterns of “Continuum 9” and the nervous drumming and anticipatory synthetic bass of “Continuum 10”, Sinephro melts instruments away, leaving only her piano, then slows it down, gradually, before fading into the ether. It feels genuinely purposeful, but comes as narrative surprise – nowhere has she relied so much on the pure and naked sound of a single instrument. By slowing it own, Sinephro also suggests that it ultimately can’t contain the moment. Is this death, or merely the protagonist leaving one place for an uncertain future?
Sinephro is clever enough to leave these compositional moments up for interpretation, and without a clear focus. Having prominently tuned the synthesizers in her home to 432Hz – a frequency that allegedly holds healing qualities – her music could be read as deeply spiritual experience that defies any grander, linear storyline. As stated earlier in this piece, an interesting element of Afrofuturism is that it can exist beyond introducing the audience to a discernible story, transforming its philosophy and politics into an aesthetic that can float beyond words and find an identity beyond history. In other words, heal what has been an open wound within the heart of diasporic experience.
Most of all, Endlessness shows a strong evolution for Sinephro. Where her already brilliant Space 1.8 showed incredible mastery of jazz, her second full length is filled with curiosity and energy, desire to push performances and use tension to create mantras – and explore imaginary microcosms. It’s hard to say if it is necessarily ‘better’ than its predecessor, but Endlessness is yet another incredible, standout record from arguably the most gifted jazz musician her generation has seen so far.
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