There is an impressive air hidden within L’Rain’s ability to handle the balance of two antipodal atmospheres: dreamy and real. In order to capture the essence of her stirring poetry, Brooklyn based multi-instrumentalist Taja Cheek uses emotion as a source of power and navigates a fusion of styles - combining mainly neo-soul, jazz, neo-psychedelia and sound collage as ingredients of a unique personal signature.
If her first eponymous project, released in 2017, focused on the passing of her mother, was an ideal postcard to capture her full potential, Fatigue is a reflection of its concept. Fatigue is therefore intended as an evolution of state of mind, spiritually too, not as something radical, but rather as an improvement. A mission accomplished with brilliance, both thematically and musically.
Supported by producer Andrew Lappin, as well as twenty other crucial participants from music to imagery, Fatigue is rooted deep within L’Rain's heart; intergrating elements such as interaction, the strength of a group, as well as personal reflection. Pointing out the negativity, insecurity, injustice, even a disillusioned way of thinking which are all more than ever today, through various emotions, L'Rain's objective is to find a spiritual compromise that leads to the middle ground, acceptance, to avoid a uniform vision.
For this, L'Rain delivers a rich, hypnotic musical harmony, on a broad palette, between sampler, guitar, string/wind instruments, synthesizers, all transporting you, sweeping you away on an intoxicating journey. Faithful to the process, many speakers come to add their stone to the building. Conversely, L'Rain regularly indulges in confidential, introspective interludes, as if time remains still in order to capture a specific emotion. The use of loops acts like a heartbeat, pulses tracing the reflection and the interrogation.
Each element of Fatigue has its importance, distinguishing itself also by the prowess of some great and varied highlights. First of all the deep "Find It", a bewitching, vaporous adventure, which concludes on a transcendent gospel. By its modesty, "Blame Me" exudes beauty thanks to its orchestration and the sweetness of its melodies. The jazzy "Two Faces" shines with a warm musicality even if the subject illustrates a deep regret. Finally, the sensational "Suck Teeth" is a breathtaking magnetic demonstration. One even ends up regretting that Fatigue is so short.