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Groggy, engrossing new work from Ulla under their newly minted U.e. tag, riffing to the sublime on a set of (mostly) acoustic reveries that tap into the kind of smokey vapours favoured by the likes of Vincent Gallo, Voice Actor, Jonnine.

A new year, label, album and handle for Ulla, a multifaceted artist who has draped our pages with wonder, under numerous aliases and collabs, for almost a decade. On ‘Hometown Girl’ they distill transience and flux into a quiet set of chamber works subtly resembling the room recorded nuance of their ‘Jazz Plates’ side with Perila - here taken a step further into more elusive, low-lit dimensions.

In a mode that’s wistful and melancholic, listening to the album’s dozen discrete pieces feels like leafing thru a journal of hand-written notes, reflecting on the feelings that come with separation from loved ones and displacement from familiarity. Ulla performed and recorded all of the instruments themselves, lending a tangible tactility to layered arrangements of woodwind, keys, strings, drums and voice, lightly speckled with electronics and perfused with open window field recordings.

They locate a crackling frisson of personality in the voice notes and day-dreaminess of their mottled inscapes, gauzily demarcating lines between past and present selves. In that aesthetic and approach we can also hear similarities to Jonnine’s blue-skied ‘Southside Girl’ or crys cole’s poetic sensuality, often leaning into the domestic surreal.

A frayed, opening salutation ‘Good Morning’ signals a delirious half hour in Ulla’s company, variously swaying to the downstroked jazz swing of a ‘Lavender (NF)’ spritzed with clarinet, whilst ‘Froggy Explorer’ stirs the air like Jan Jelinek on a barely-there tip. The Basinski-esque fritz of degraded loops really snags the imagination along with a twinkling nightlight ‘Ball’, as the album opens out into its most fully resolved songs with a closing couplet of disarming wonders ‘Drawing of Me’, and a blurry ‘Mute’ that feels like Ulla 〜almost〜 reveals too much before retreating back into the shadows.

naemi follows last year’s excellent Erika de Casier-starring »Dust Devil« with a genius new album of ultra-catchy, perfectly executed shoegaze diamonds, powered by Ulla on drums and additional vox, flutes and extra vocals by Baptist Goth, and fuzz guitar by Kouhei.

»Breathless Shorn« is the Berlin-based Kansas-born producer's most compelling move thus far, featuring 11 perfectly fuzzed songs that almost completely shake off any electronic remnants in favour of a light-touched act of MBV worship. naemi has long nurtured an obsession with vintage dreampop and shoegaze, but until now they mostly blurred those influences with dubby ambience and delicate, heart-slicing production. On »Breathless Shorn« they completely re-draw their outlines, bristling with a much looser energy in a mode that feels like a big step up - more impactful, full of easy swagger and a bona fide emotional resonance.

Distorted, tremolo-bent guitars, boxy drums, electric bass and delirious multi-tracked vocals are the backbone here, mostly sounding like they could have been lifted off Kevin Shields' »Ecstasy and Wine« sessions. naemi's attention to detail is remarkable; no longer leaning on electronic masking or the influence of '90s British slacker rawk or twee pop, instead deploying the genuine article, with ambient music left as just a faint note wafting in the background.