Sylphine Soporifera

Air is the central element in Antonina Nowacka’s third solo album Sylphine Soporifera. The title names an imaginary species and the land they inhabit, inspired by the unreal desert landscape of Paracas and the undulating tree-less hills of the Outer Hebrides, and comes from the writings of Rudolf Steiner, who describes creatures called Sylphs as the spirits of the air, and the Latin word sopor which means deep sleep.

As with all her releases, Nowacka’s other-worldly vocals coming as if from beyond the veil, at once haunting, alien and utterly entrancing. “The voice is the most beautiful and resonating instrument,” she says. “When I sing I feel I create a field in between myself and the air in front of me,” she explains. “It is not just that I’m singing – something in the space in front of me is happening, and I merge with this sphere.”

She conjures and is inspired by open environments and infinite landscapes: places full of light and air, manifested here in the sound of ocarinas from Budrio in Italy, whistles from Mexico, simple bamboo flutes from Nepal, alongside tremulous zithers, synthetic Hawaiian sounds from a vintage organ and the uncanny wind instrument presets from a 90s synth.

Nowacka’s first album was informed by vocal sketches made in caves in Indonesia, later recorded at a fortress in Poland; she studied Hindustani music in India with vocalist Shashwati Mandal, fell in love with early Cumbia in Mexico and Peru, and has more recently found inspiration in the landscapes of Italy. Hers is a new New Age soundworld that finds its origins everywhere and nowhere. Sylphine Soporifera gathers these sounds, visions and experiences into an album permeated with a sense of hope and fulfilment, that feels like sitting in an enlivening white beam of afternoon sunlight, as dustmotes swirl in the stillness.