There’s a specific kind of silence that follows a fire. Heavier than it is peaceful, it’s the sound of everything you thought you knew being reduced to a fine grey powder. With the world feeling like it’s on fire, I kept turning that thought over in my head while spinning Superconsciousness, the latest solo record from Imaad Wasif.
If you’ve followed the trajectory of Imaad Wasif, you know he’s never been one for the shallow end of the pool. You can hear it in the tectonic, heart-shattering slowcore of lowercase and the jagged elegance he brings as the fourth member of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. He’s a lifer, a seeker. He looks at the void and doesn’t blink. On his solo records, it’s obvious that Wasif seeks out the melody hidden in the static, e it musical, spiritual, or emotional.
Superconsciousness feels like it was forged in a literal and metaphorical furnace.
Part of that could be due to the fact that it was born from the aftermath of the 2025 Altadena wildfires. You can hear that displacement in the bones of each track. Released on his own label, the album is at times gothic and other times soul-baring. But this is not “disaster music.” It’s the sound of a man sifting through the wreckage to find the “god-spark” that didn’t burn. Or, more fittingly in today’s political climate – one that is undeniably a dumpster fire – he realizes that creating something beautiful within that chaos is the only middle finger that actually matters.
Sonically speaking, Superconsciousness is a melting pot of Indian ragas, experimental guitar exploration, and gothic folk elegies. Wasif’s vocals weave through the music, searching for a center amidst the omens closing in on all of us. The powerful music features appearances by Heather McIntosh of Neutral Milk Hotel, Garret Ray of Vampire Weekend, and fellow Yeah Yeah Yeahs guitarist, Nick Zinner.
Meticulously composed, the album breathes with the erratic pulse of someone who’s seen both the end of a relationship and the end of a landscape and decided to keep walking anyway. Its centerpiece, “Echoing,” is a masterclass in restraint, anchored by a pastoral piano arpeggio that feels like sunlight hitting a cracked window. Even on the album’s only traditional rock song, “The Rainbow”, the underlying layer of mysticism beneath the T-Rex flavor represents the through-line for everything Imaad Wasif touches. There’s a warmth here that feels suspiciously like hope, even if it’s a scarred, weary version of it.
Superconsciousness is an essential transmission for the disillusioned, and Imaad Wasif is your all-knowing host.
It’s a record for those of us who feel the gnawing, pervasive disillusionment of 2026 but still believe there’s a path between thought and expression that isn’t paved with ego. We’re all trying to do and be better, but sometimes, it feels as if no one is talking about how exhausting that is in practice. Be it guilt, self-destructiveness, or just emotional fatigue, Wasif writes as if he’s been on the same path. However, he isn’t telling you what you should be doing; he’s more or less reaching out and giving you a road map.
If you’re not looking for a cosmic directory, Superconsciousness still stands on its own as a healthy folk album. Then again, Imaad Wasif isn’t claiming to have reached the mountaintop. He’s just a mirror reflecting our own shattered reality back at us. If these songs tell us anything, it’s that Wasif found a way to make the shards glow in the aftermath. Sometimes, that small, flickering light reminds you that, even in the dark, smouldering ash, you can still find your way home.
Superconsciousness is available on vinyl, streaming, and download from Voidist Records