MAKAI - The Comfort Zone

Every time that peacock-blue record comes to life, the air fills with a dreamlike haze, ecstatic and sun-drenched like an August afternoon, yet at the same time haunted by a nocturnal mist steeped in melancholy that carries you far away.

“Lazy Days” opens the dance in the best possible way, with the lightness that will be the fil rouge of the whole album, and percussion that sketches shapes in the air between ancestral beats and ecstatic dream-pop melodies. Then there are airier moments, like “Hands” and “You”, others where the electronic matrix grows more intense (“Missed”), and others still where small unease peeks through, disguised beneath a blanket of lysergic abandon (“Fire Fall”, “Later”).

“Night Shift” deserves a mention apart, an instrumental track that live takes on an inexpressible vigor, as does “Clara”, a shining emblem of that blend of acoustic and electronic I mentioned earlier. An inspired piece, whose beauty is so explicit, genuine and within reach that it leaves you stunned. The video's protagonist is the shy dance of a couple in a greenhouse, barefoot, a metaphor for the search for emotional stability, a dance in which they'll gradually discover themselves growing ever closer, ever freer.

Makai has the ability to chisel out melodies that are practically perfect, moving nimbly between catatonic dichotomies and electronic backdrops. A captivating, carefully studied balance underpins the completeness of “The Comfort Zone”, in which every track has its own identity while still fitting within an extremely coherent project.