LAMIA’s 'Angel' drifted into my headphones like a whispered invocation - heart-breaking, beautiful, and utterly spellbinding. From the very start, I felt submerged in a soundscape that mourns and longs in equal measure. It’s ambient, yes, but haunted too - and the synths are sublime, bleak and droning with delicate tones flickering around the gloom like fading fireflies.
Her voice, fragile and front-facing, carries the weight of a lament, a love-letter edged in black. “Behind the iron sky I see you… And when it’s dark I need you”. Lines that hint at a certain sorrow and anguish shrouding the song.
LAMIA’s artistry really engages the listener. A graduate of Goldsmiths and a student of Leeds Conservatoire and The BRIT School, she’s carved a space where experimental electronic meets post-trance and deconstructed club. 'Angel' feels like a portal into that world - a spectral guide through sorrow.
She describes its creation as “a light that appeared and guided me through the darkness,” and I believe her. There’s a chill in its emptiness and the the silence between notes feels both sacred and personal.
Angel is for a time of solitude - for midnight contemplation. It’s a song that sees you, even behind the iron sky.