City Slang
Anna B Savage returns with her second LP, in|FLUX, elevating her career to new heights. The Dublin-based Londoner has made a name for herself, delivering rich, atmospheric music, but never before has she sounded so powerful. The words “in flux” suggest instability, and the album is an immersive journey of recovery and therapy while embracing the conflict within emotions.
Savage’s rise has been slow and somewhat disjointed, but she’s firmly on the right track now. The daughter of two professionally trained classical singers, Savage first burst onto the scene in 2015 with an impressive four-track EP. The EP was well received, and Savage’s stock rose, touring with Father John Misty and Jenny Hval. She then disappeared off the radar for several years before returning with a bang, delivering her debut LP, A Common Turn, in 2021. A Common Turn saw her battling heartbreak, owning her vulnerabilities and insecurities in an empowering manner, creating an almost unparalleled intimacy through the strength of her storytelling.
A Common Turn’s diaristic intimacy was contrasted by the cavernous sound, but in|FLUX‘s greater instrumentation and more layered sound doesn’t dilute Savage’s words. The compositions are beautifully arranged, delving between electronic and ambience but always surrendering centre stage to Savage’s voice. Savage’s vocal dexterity is breathtaking, shifting from breathy to balletic, bringing syllables to life with a mere inflexion, stretching the meaning of words. The album’s pervading theme is about internal conflict, Savage describing it as the “realisation you’re allowed to have opinions that oppose each other”. Savage has always been excellent at sketching out emotions, and in|FLUX is no different, combining personal experiences and sharp metaphors to bring this internal struggle to life.
The album opens with the thrilling ‘The Ghost’, a track that hypnotically builds as Savage describes being haunted by a partner. The chorus sees her pleading, “Stop haunting me, please”, which becomes more potent with each refrain. Savage brilliantly encompasses the lingering, unescapable feeling of past love, asking, “What Am I meant to do/With how much I loved you?/It’s everywhere it’s under my nails/It’s in my hair”. ‘I Can Hear the Birds Now’ has a more sparse, organic sound, Savage indulging in some pastoral folk. The song feels like a moment of reflection, Savage recognising the greater sense of clarity that can arise from being alone. ‘Pavlov’s Dog’ explores sexual connections, drawing a thin parallel between Pavlov’s conditioning experiment and the ability of lovers to elicit physical responses from each other (“I’m here, I’m waiting, I’m salivating”).
‘Crown Shyness’ incorporates some jazzy elements, with its hazy horns that drift in and out. It’s a song that encapsulates the theme of conflict, “This endless push/And endless pull”, musing on how relationships can be torn apart by opposing forces. ‘Say My Name’ begins with Savage’s voice as a fragile, breathy whisper, barely gasping, “I crack a window/The wind rips my voice away”. The notion of voice becomes very powerful; Savage’s has been ripped away, and she feels invisible. The song builds dramatically, turning into a fantastic jumbled mess, the drum machine sounding like rain smashing against the windows. The piercing saxophone trills and randomly jabbed keys create this howling wind as Savage pleads, “Somebody Say My Name”. The album’s title track morphs from the distant lingering horns to this thumping, electronic bass, embodying the album’s title. Savage’s layered vocals create a sense of affirmation as she sings to herself, “I want to be alone”, understanding and submitting to her desires.
‘Hungry’ starts as a conventional folk track before we get some intermittent, plopping synth keys. Savage’s voice stretches the word hungry to breaking point (“Hungry-eeee”), creating that sense of urgent desire. ‘Feet of Clay’ grapples with commitment issues and the feeling of being trapped that a relationship can create. Savage sings, “I know I said I wanted you/But that was yesterday”, delivering on her central idea of the album; accepting and owning your opposing opinions. ‘Touch Me’ is instrumentally sparse but lyrically visceral, “Pull my hair/Caress my cheek”, Savage sings. It’s about un-demonising lust and sexual desire and embracing your physical desires. The closing track, ‘Orange’, has a wonderful warmth, with horns floating in the background and gentle whistling. Savage doesn’t provide any inherent closure, which feels perfect, as she sings, “I’m gonna be fine”. But she does promise to embrace loving herself (“It’s a small miracle/To finally enjoy being me”).
in|Flux is an album that embraces emotions; Savage’s voice is a vehicle of human expression, fragile and delicate one moment, powerful and defiant the next. Savage’s words are equally expressive; she wears her vulnerabilities with pride, pulling apart their intricacies, dissecting them and most importantly, allowing them. in|FLUX is a record which empowers you to own your feelings and understand internal conflict is part of life, emotions aren’t black and white, and Savage fleshes out their greyness. Credit must go to Mike Lindsay for the album’s excellent production, providing an intricate, layered sound that never detracts from Savage’s voice. Savage delivers an album of stunning intimacy and relatability, no mean feat.