KLARA LEWIS - Openings

For "Editions Mego", Klara Lewis delivers her coming-of-age album.
She had left us with the moody, weather-sensitive "Thankful", a record capable of threading, after twenty minutes of neoclassical composition, two lo-fi ukulele pieces and two ambient electro-punk freakouts dedicated to the late Peter Rehberg. She returns with a move back towards the sound of her early work ("Too" and "Ett"), now enriched with a new, inspired compositional density. "Openings" manages to absorb the measured elegance of the Swedish artist and charge it with incandescent intensity. The tracks shape fury into dance, in controlled choreographies. The sonic body seeks the tension of tendon and nerve to find the perfect balance in the ecstasy of the figure.

Listening becomes a physical experience: you take part in the effort as sound expands and contracts in space as if fighting against resistance. The heavy use of reverse, backmasking and glitch amplifies a dramatic quality that reaches its peak in tracks like "Ta Min Hand", "Bud", or "Vaknar" (the finest moment on the whole record). In the supersonic rewind of a tape, strings swelling in crescendo desperately push a melody toward the surface. One gets the impression of a disaster of memory, an erasure at whose center something stoically wants to remain alive, a memory or a mirage of itself.

In other tracks, the liquid fall of the piano triggers circles that, rather than radiating outward, contract on impact ("Hardcore"). Echo and delay soften the violent collapses of the synths ("Feel", "Small Harp") and carve out infinite depths through which the sound can run.
The more distinctly ambient tracks, meanwhile, are chrome-plated micro-accelerations of electronics and textural loops chasing one another in a glittering, slow-moving flood (the gorgeous "Tide"), or ones that burst from dark regions of uncertainty ("Openings", "Small Harp") with incendiary violence into raw distortion ("City"). As if the dawn-tinted hues of Harold Budd at the river's mouth found their sea in the jagged feedback of Fennesz.

Klara Lewis turns her fragile melodies into a phantasmagoria of electric lanterns, delivering a living, theatrical work capable of enchanting and moving us. The plastic representation of a body wrestling with majestic forces, able, with lightness, to dance amid the ambiguities of time and space.

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08/10/2026