This dynamic debut is a riot of sound and colour: elements of pop, electro-house and indie fill out the London artist's bag of tricks

“I’m what a rockstar looks like” were the words of a young and exuberant Master Peacespeaking to NME four years ago. It’s a statement that the London artist, born Peace Okezie, has since followed through on, bridging the worlds between rap, punk and indie through singles like 2019’s ‘Night Time’ and The Streets collaboration ‘Wrong Answers Only’. He now finds himself armed with a range of styles, which continue to seamlessly interchange in his music.

Whilst the heartfelt moments imbued in his earlier material may have struck a chord with Bakar fans, Okezie’s debut LP ‘How To Make A Master Peace’ transports you straight to the dancefloor. These 11 tracks would certainly find a home at a modern indie club night alongside Wet Leg or The Snuts. Coupled with his infectious personality, this album establishes Okezie as the party-starter the genre never knew it needed.

Mashing explosive beats with groovy guitar lines, ‘How To Make A Master Peace’ vibrates with energy from the get-go. Opener ‘Los Narcos’ channels the riffs and textures from The Hives’ heyday; later on, ‘Get Naughty!’ pairs bombastic production with call-and-response vocals.

The arrangements here are also defined by their basslines, which vary in pace and intensity, from low-key (‘Happiness Is Love’) to rhythmic and wickedly addictive (Georgia team-up ‘I Might Be Fake’). On the latter, layers of synths build a foundation for the track’s curveball of a chorus, making it the catchiest sing-along on the album. It’s a masterclass in organised chaos.

Okezie even ventures into pure pop territory on ‘Heaven’: ““Let me see paradise,” he sings, teasing a wave of euphoria before the track shifts towards an electro-house break. It makes for a real standout moment, while also cementing Okezie’s status as a burgeoning creative force.

Details

master peace

  • Release date: March 1
  • Record label: PMR Records
After a tough few years fighting illness and cutting her teeth in music, the Slovakian artist delivers a confident and unflinching debut

Listening to Karin Ann’s debut album ‘Through the Telescope’, you’d be forgiven for not realising that the Slovakian singer-songwriter is just 21-years-old. There is a knowing darkness to this music, which brims with observations earned through experience and the mystique of an author with many stories to tell.

“All his skin eaten by worms / Nothing left there / A pile of bones”, Ann sings on ‘Pile of Bones’. For all its macabre imagery – a through line across the album’s 14 tracks – the song is delivered like a fairytale, with Ann’s soft, ethereal vocals floating like wisps of smoke around its beating heart.

Her singing voice is light, calling to mind the ease and indie droll of Faye Webster and Frankie Cosmos. It all feeds into the album’s curious mix of light and dark, as Ann sings through honeyed whispers of deep emotional strife, from losing faith to leaving childhood behind too early, embedding these dark secrets in twinkling melodies and delicate guitar strings. “The band keeps playing while I continue to cry”, she sings softly on dollhouse-like track ‘The Band Keeps Playing’. “Maybe they won’t see that my dress keeps tearing / And it’s swallowing me”.

It all feels reminiscent of Maya Hawke’s ‘Moss’, which comes as no surprise considering Ann’s self-described “obsession” with Hawke’s 2022 LP. As Ann told NME for The Cover, she asked to work with producer and Hawke collaborator Benjamin Lazar Davis on this project; indeed his presence is keenly felt in the album’s intricate sound, delicate as tissue paper yet harbouring a razor sharp edge too.

Ann’s songwriting is at its strongest when it goes for specifics. There’s queer love song ‘Olivia’, ‘A Song for the Moon’ – a love letter to the darker sides of herself – or ‘My Best Work of Art’, the album’s lovely closer that chronicles Ann’s reclamation of her own identity through the lens of painting and brushstrokes.

After a tough few years fighting illness and cutting her teeth in music, Ann delivers a confident and unflinching debut album. ‘Through The Telescope’ weaves her personal struggles into beautiful, potent songwriting, which she gives space to breathe amidst lush vocals and rich, but never overblown instrumentation. Dancing deftly across folk, rock, country and pop, and spanning emotional landscapes from lovestruck to melancholy, this is a most precocious debut.

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