4AD
Over the years, Lucinda Chua has beguiled us with her intimate, atmospheric ambient pop songs, from her beginnings in the chamber pop group Felix to her solo EP offerings, Antidotes 1 & 2. Combining her breathy enchanting vocals with her skilful, weaving cello work, Chua creates musical cocoons, blissful but eerie. On her debut album, YIAN, she takes a captivating journey of self-confession.
Chua studied photography at university, and her music has a cinematic quality, sparse but operating from a wide lens. She’s a visual storyteller, creating rich, pastoral landscapes that seemingly have no ceiling. On ‘An Ocean’, the keys ripple like they’re floating on water, while the mournful strings capture the loneliness of the sea. To Chua, the ocean represents a liminal space, isolated and grappling for a sense of control, buffeted by the waves but ultimately swept home by the tides.
Chua comes from a multicultural background, born to an English mother and a Chinese-Malaysian father, with the album’s title, YIAN, part of the Chinese name bestowed upon her by her parents: Siew Yan. As a result, Chua describes herself as “very at home at the intersections”, reflected in YIAN, the music existing in outside spaces but with an internal depth. Over the fragile strings of the brilliant ‘Autumn Leaves Don’t Care’, she tightens her voice, seeking to break out of her purgatory: “I’ve been living in the sky too long/Waiting for someone to help me home”.
Chua seems to be seeking reassurance and guidance. On ‘I Promise’, she struggles to break through past pain but eventually asserts her desire to move forward: “I don’t want to live like this”. ‘Echo’ explores similar ground; Chua sounds fragile and broken but is unwilling to compromise herself anymore: “Holding onto so much pain/I won’t be your echo again”. Even on the final track, ‘Something Other Than Years’ she seems tentative: “Show me how to live this life”. But joined by glitch-pop extraordinaire Yeule, she’s committed to living rather than just passing the time, acknowledging “There’s more in this life”.
YIAN also means Swallow in Chinese, the migrating bird that similarly exists between two homes, finding solace in the sky in between. Chua navigates similar territory, and her music has a transcendent quality, with strings that soar upwards. ‘Meditations on a Place’ is beautifully ethereal, evocative of a sweeping meadow observed from a birds-eye view, contrastingly the sombre sounding ‘Grief Piece’ conjures up a desolate wasteland. ‘Do You Know, You Know?’ scattered keys feel like they’re being jabbed from above while Chua floats behind a reverbing wall of synths. The spacious landscapes are countered by the intimacy of Chua’s breathy voice, which tickles the hairs on the back of your neck.
‘Golden’ provides the record’s outstanding moment, the reverbing keys and droning synths creating an eerie atmosphere. Grappling with feelings of being lost (“Who do I run from? Who do I run towards”), the video sees her reaching out to a younger self, reassuring her. Chua presents a series of questions throughout YIAN, but she seeks her own answers, asserting her identity in the process.