Lia Ices third album opens with a track that sounds suspiciously like what might be played on the twelfth day of a hippy festival to some swaying nomads. There is campfire-like percussion, jangling acoustics and the odd burst of melodic chanting. So far, so vom-inducing. Later on in the album, in ‘Electric Arc’ there are even (what sounds like) panpipes, which are by their very nature inexcusable. Plus, the fifth track is called ‘Magick’, with a ‘k’.

However, once this visceral, knee-jerk reaction subsides, ‘Ices’ reveals itself to be a rather beautiful and experimental creation. There is nothing passé about these songs and her mysticism is far more Florence Welch than Camden Market. Through the dreamy layers are glimpses of indie and electro, pleasingly knotted together with a seventies rock sensibility, with splashes of later Kate Bush. Amongst the bewitching textures here, it’s not hard to see why the California-based singer-songwriter has been slowly mesmerising even the most begrudging of skeptics.


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