L’Rain
Fata Morgana
MEXICAN SUMMER
Fata Morgana is an Italian term used by sailors to describe an optical illusion that occurs at sea where boats that are off on the horizon seem to be floating in the air. The term is based on medieval lore—namely Arthur’s sorceress sister Morgan le Fay, an apprentice to the wizard Merlin—and has long been associated with possessing the power to influence eclipses; sailors thought le Fay created this illusion to lead them to their deaths. Rather than a siren, though, le Fay was a more powerful, complex figure in Arthurian myth. She’s a feminine symbol known as a goddess, witch, sorceress, and even a fairy, who defies the binary of good and evil.
Fata Morgana is a fitting name for Taja Cheek’s latest record for many reasons, as it captures an airy, liminal, mystical, and unpredictable quality she evokes with her songwriting and production work as L’Rain—the digital distortions, unexpected switches in sound, and suspended, floaty vocals. On the new record, L’Rain teams up once again with Andrew Lappin—a producer who’s worked with the likes of Orville Peck and Lucy Dacus since collaborating on Cheek’s 2017 debut—to create a complex project that pushes the boundaries of genre to create something shimmering and otherworldly.
The record starts with the spoken-word track “Rumors of Light,” a glitchy moody piece that sets the scene: “I’m trying to start—I’m trying,” L’Rain says plainly, as if she’s struggling to reach something on an intellectual level she can’t quite seem to grasp. This intro transitions into “With Time,” a lushly produced track with a chromatic melody that perfectly captures the harrowing sonic journey the listener is about to embark on. “Blue” continues with the same minor quality as its predecessor, as if L’Rain is still pondering in the darkness. But with “July 5th,” a brighter melody takes over; things run off course ahead of the track’s explosive finale, wherein the composition ignites into a powerful drum ’n’ bass section featuring legendary reggae artist Screechy Dan. “Get up and press delete and not repeat and free up yourself,” he exclaims as the voracious beat overtakes his vocals.
Fata Morgana gets brighter and lusher in its second half with the exception of the chaotic “Soulless Cycle” and “No Body / Know Body,” the latter an otherworldly ambient track that feels slightly askew. The album ends with “Church of No One,” a warm, resonant electronic bookend. The record should be listened to in a single, uninterrupted session to truly grasp its multitudes and to appreciate L’Rain’s ability to incorporate a wide variety of genres, ranging from ambient to jungle, R&B to jazz, experimental-electronic to spoken-word. She blends them in a way that feels seamless, even when the track list feels strategically jarring—a masterful accomplishment that would likely even impress Morgan le Fay.
