Deradoorian, Find The Sun, (ANTI-)

A psychedelic teardrop of a record, a sunsplash in a cyclone, a song cycle with no clear center, just airy, percussion-forward arrangements pulling lightly from core as these ten tracks roll by like CAN jamming on the back of a passing flatbed. And then there’s that voice; there’s really nothing else like it on the modern music spectrum, wailing out of control one second, chanting the next, descending/ascending/returning to earth with surprising grit. Unlike most singer’s with this pristine a vocal instrument, Angel Deradoorian doesn’t treat her vocal chords like sacred money-makers that must be protected at all costs. She shrieks, shreds, yelps, often stacking up contrasting layers of said shrieks and yelps until the instruments don’t even matter, swept to the background by the acapella canopy. Deep space cuts like “Red Sun” and “Corsican Night” reveal layers of sonic treasures upon repeat listens, “Devil’s Market” matches the teeth-chattering psych dread of Dera classic of old “Komodo”. And in closer “Sun” we have the most insane vocal performance of recent memory, possibly ever, where Dera gets the jump on Kate Bush by chanting, preening, and caterwauling as the record, and seemingly the world and worlds within those worlds, collapses around her with a violent strain of grace.