Uma - The Moth And The Dove

April 9, 2021 - Slow Dance

Love and art are both entirely human phenomena, and as such they will always inform each other. Singing about loving is its own means of expressing the present and leaving a residue of the future’s past. Love songs make great recorded histories because love is the constant while the players, atmosphere, linguistics, trends and musical modes are variable. I don’t know when we all decided that something that’s easily understood by all is simple and not worth attention. Maybe we can blame it on our Lacanian and Foucoultian baggage. But when someone calls something “cliché,” I think we can take a step back to recognize that language. With matters of the heart, the subject may be so familiar and popular because the feeling is real and fundamental to our existence. Even for the cynics among us, there will never be enough silly love songs. 

In the events of the past year, where we have found ourselves stuck in lockdown as a captive audience in what appeared to be a world unravelling for the sake of profit, Barcelona-based folk artist Uma Bunnag Blacker has love on her mind like an antidote. She spent the pandemic in her childhood home with her partner and fellow musician Lucy Lu aka Luke Bower, and the two of them discovered a rich collaboration during that time. Uma’s second EP, The Moth and the Dove, is a love story at a pivotal moment in every relationship, the sink or swim after the honeymoon phase, where you’re either going to grow a deeper intimacy and accept each other’s good, bad, and ugly, or you’re not. We hear from both Uma and Lucy Lu, and they sing in duet about the dualities of easy and difficult, of desire for closeness, of grappling with the complexity of fully knowing another human being. They use references to powerful forces of nature and biblical allegories to express the impact. The COVID-19 pandemic seems to have simultaneously given extra space for their relationship to grow and inflicted a stronger intensity on that momentum. Naturally, as artists, they are going to share that experience with us using radical honesty. The Moth and the Dove is thus a collection of a new sort of love song, a snapshot of time and place, of this moment and also timeless.

The songs themselves are simple in structure to keep the attention on the singers and their words. Uma’s voice is soft and subtle, singing close to the mic, pulling us to her like a home recording. The instruments are minimal, but the production is playful. You’ll hear bossa nova-like cadences, dream beachy guitar strums and distant riffs, and bouncy bass lines breathing underneath the waves. As the album progresses, it becomes clear the couple faced an urgent inner crisis in addition to the urgent outer crisis surrounding them. It demanded acknowledgement and deeper understanding to fortify the foundation. Introspection first, then face the outside world together. 

The duet ‘Bring Me The Mountain’ is a fatalistic murmur, a nihilistic acceptance of love as opposed to a euphoric one. As the opening track, its bass oscillates like a watery grave. The dynamic range of the singers above remains relatively even, but there is much movement deep underneath them. It leaves more questions than it answers, coming off a little bloody and macabre, reminding us that the physiology of love and agony are closely related. 

‘Nebula’ is a precious offering of soothing refuge, a way to hold tight to each other in order to see past the difficult times. The melody is singsong, sweet, upturned, a little absurd, and hopeful. An attempt at escape, Uma sings that she wants to “take it all out into space, want to take you away from this place” as a bouncy bass plucks underneath her and a syncopated clap beat floats along, drawing us into a song so empathetic and optimistic we can’t help but feel a little better. Like children being asked not to smile, we smile in spite of ourselves. Life lately has been really hard. Uma knows that she needs to trick us into feeling joy again. 

‘Talking Walks’ is my favorite track on the EP. It’s concept picks up where ‘Nebula’ left off, comforting, calming, a song of perspective, of strength together, of asking your lover to let go of the worries of the world and be present with you in order to heal. The melody Uma sings suddenly rises and dips when she interjects herself to exclaim, “oh golden child, won’t you stand here steady with me,” and it’s very appealing to the heartsong of my folk soul. The percussion underneath sounds like horse hooves on cobblestone, walking in time, moving on while we watch in awe. There it is, returning, a feeling of happiness in a time of trauma. We’re so glad to see that it still exists, like a seed growing out of what we thought was barren soil leached of all nutrients.

With The Moth and the Dove, Uma has definitely established herself in my consciousness as a musician to watch. I love the indulgence of maximalist music, but I also love the prowess demonstrated when musicians put out great minimalism. Uma has achieved some creative clarity during this pandemic. These songs seem subtle but will get stuck in your head. They actively give to you, offering exactly what you need to fill your cup with love again, nothing more and nothing less. ☔