Reconciling otherness with selfhood is on the coronary heart of Eva Liu’s work as vocalist of indie-rock trio Dama Scout and in her solo mission mui zyu. On her debut EP as mui zyu, 2021’s an exquisite factor vomits, the London-based artist reckoned with emotions of alienation by constructing an immersive dreamworld of shapeshifting soundscapes. Liu, who was born in Northern Eire to a household of Hong Kong immigrants, was extra confrontational on Dama Scout’s debut album: Traversing the turbulent, psychedelic artwork rock of gen wo lai (include me), she labored in the direction of therapeutic by piecing collectively fragmented reminiscences of her childhood.
mui zyu’s debut album, Rotten Bun for an Eggless Century, glides between mystical portal fantasy and fragmented actuality in pursuit of self-acceptance. Liu delves deeper into her Chinese language heritage, emulating the eerie folklore of Qing dynasty author Pu Songling and his uncanny means to forged the on a regular basis within the realm of the supernatural. Envisioning herself as a lonesome warrior on a quest for liberation, she gives a mutated tackle bed room pop: Her craving vocals are cocooned in a cacophony of bounding instrumental melodies, muggy synths, and bursts of fuzz. It’s an unsettling world the place emotions of cultural displacement manifest as demons.
A dense, tumultuous combination of contorted electronics and discordant keyboard melodies varieties the majority of the album’s preparations. Often, Liu hides fragments of her childhood within the combine: 8-bit synths are harking back to video-game soundtracks, and discipline recordings of Chinese language eating places buried within the background mimic the noise of residing above her father’s restaurant. mui zyu’s summary lyrics match the warped dissonance with grotesque imagery. “We may cry blood in our eyes, we are able to’t breathe/We snigger so onerous we may die,” she sings on “Dusty.” Because the guitar melts, she’s caught someplace between torturous anguish and bliss.
A few of mui zyu’s most attention-grabbing experiments are constructed with conventional Chinese language instrumentation. On “Ghost With a Peach Pores and skin,” a guzheng—a kind of zither—is digitally distorted and folded right into a danceable beat with out dropping its wealthy character, mimicking the transformative technique of renewal. Liu makes use of the picture of a peach—a logo of longevity in Chinese language tradition, regardless of the fruit’s fragility—to remind herself of the trauma she should carry even in rebirth. Liu joined a number of native cultural teams as a part of her exploration of her Hong Kong roots, and that sense of neighborhood emerges as revitalizing assist in her struggle in opposition to ghouls on “Demon 01.”
Repairing familial relationships is central to Rotten Bun for an Eggless Century’s drift between dimensions. Interlude “Ho Bao Daan” options her father reciting a recipe for the titular Hong Kong egg dish earlier than it whisks mui zyu again into the otherworldly setting. The album’s most poignant second arrives on “Mom’s Tongue.” Throughout glistening washes of dream-pop guitar, Liu sings, “Don’t must forgive you for one thing you don’t imply to do.” It’s her most direct assertion right here, her voice stuffed with empathetic understanding as she relinquishes previous resentments. She appears to acknowledge that love generally entails letting go, but leaving a path open for the cherished one’s return. A voice word from her mom cuts by the tense air: “Eva, I’m so pleased with you,” she commends, earlier than she’s swallowed by the ambient swell.
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