Since emerging from her former life as one half of the much loved but, in her own words, ‘anti-success’ band Gowns with her first album 2011’s Past Life Martyred Saints, EMA has exposed listeners and critics love for attempts of comparison. Ranging from the genres she conducts, such as folk, grunge, and goth, to the artists she draws parallels with, often described as involving a mash of the likes of Cat Power all the way to that of Courtney Love, people have been revelling in throwing their readings into the pot. Now comparisons are by no means a negative when trying to present the sound of an artist, they are often effective in highlighting the sensibilities, which accompany the musician without delving into endless hyperbole. However, with EMA the parallels largely form a void, as although none of the descriptions are wrong, neither are they fully effective in translating how EMA truly sounds on record. The Future’s Void continues the ability to escape honest comparisons and leaves a considerably sized impression on its listeners, which is unlikely to fade in a hurry.
Existing as a musician constantly featured in blogs following her debut release, EMA has heeded to what can be perceived as a logical step in approaching the subject of internet publicity and communication on several of the tracks on this record. The topic is perhaps breached most clearly on the more stripped back, ballad-esque “3Jane,” on which EMA exhibits the touching sensitivity her vocals can possess. Having written the lyrics as a stream of consciousness, the standout line ‘it feels like I blew my soul out across the interweb and screamed ‘it was a million pieces’’ reflects a touching and personal reflection of the exposure that comes hand in hand with a refined online presence. The theme of surveillance and unable to escape detection is also raised on the opening track “Satellites,” which was released previously as a single from the record. Cold War references are similarly included, as EMA dictates ‘and I remember when the world was divided/by a wall of concrete and a cube full of iron/still we put them out to space.’ EMA’s awareness of her increased exposure is something which crops up on The Future’s Void, and makes for engaging entertainment.
The ‘lack of timidity expressed’ noted by journalists concerning EMA’s first record has certainly been carried onto The Future’s Void. For EMA, nothing is subtle; even the folk induced track ‘When She Comes’ is somewhat ragged around the edges, a sense of static attached to every breathy vocal and guitar chord. However, the effect is not one of overt aggression. Listeners are never left feeling a sense of hostility or volatility towards themselves over the course of the album, despite notions of discomfort a couple of the tracks can induce due to their disturbing delivery. Regardless, at her most confident and abrasive, EMA is nothing short of spectacular. ‘Cthulu’ marks the breathtaking potential of our host, the climatic chorus resembling her at her most powerful, while the haunting magnificence of the execution of lines such as ‘I’m searching redemption with my eyes’ is indicative of why EMA has become a musician of such considerable interest. The tortured beauty of “Smoulder” or the pounding drive of “Neuromancer,” which follow in that order from “Cthulu,” make this trio found towards the middle of the record my favourite moment on The Future’s Void by some margin. The unhinged intensity is what draws me to them so much, and for me is what makes EMA such an important and innovative musician.
Unlike her debut record however EMA, whose full name I will finally mention as Erika M. Anderson, is unable to maintain the level of intrigue and fascination throughout the record. It certainly isn’t due to a failing in her creativity or level of intent. Rather, it just feels at times that her delivery isn’t as sincere or gauged as effectively. The previously mentioned “Satellites” is such a track where EMA’s tormented delivery doesn’t provoke the same uncomfortable reaction as on tracks such as “Smoulder.” The result is more a mash of distortion which has little idea in how it wishes to develop, and is ultimately, despite the intensity in the instrumentation and vocals, more than a little underwhelming. “100 Years” charts on the opposite end of the musical map, acting as one of the stripped back, slower paced and, unfortunately, uninteresting tracks on the album. Yes, EMA’s vocals are pleasant on the ear, again representative of her versatility, and yes, it does offer a change of pace. But for an artist with such a formidable sense of independence and weight behind her music, its impact is surprisingly rather limp. It says a lot about a musician when perfectly passable songs are highlighted as low points on a record, but for Anderson, elements of The Future’s Void add a streak of beige to a canvas which should be full of far more striking and bold colouring.
Not everyone will love, or even enjoy, EMA. She is a ferocious combination of provocation and, at times, intimidating genius. The Future’s Void is a continuation of those traits, cleverly adding moments of calm reflection to remind us that Anderson is anything, but an artist of singular capabilities. Her drive for creating passionate music which both defies categorisations and laughs at any substantiated comparisons is admirable and for the most part, impressive. The Future’s Void is a few cogs short of a musical steam engine, such is the impression it can at times leave. On occasion it feels as if it’s trundling along at a more comfortable pace than would be expected. Thankfully, for a proportion of the record, it certainly is able to achieve full speed.
Rating: 3.5/5