When Lucinda Chua recorded YIAN, her subtle, searching debut album, it felt like an escape. Confronted with the pandemic, the London-based cellist and composer retreated to the studio where she built a world of her own. “I was making a place that I could return to in my imagination, somewhere I could just let go and lose myself,” says Chua, over a milky coffee one cloudy afternoon in London. “I like that feeling of transport: how music can take you outside of your existence.”
Even now, as the pandemic continues to shrink in our rearview mirror, the 37-year-old’s ambient pop remains a refuge. Her album asks listeners to pause their daily mindless fretting. Tune out to tune in. Building on two well-received EPs and following a stint as FKA Twigs’ resident cellist on tour, YIAN is both a culmination of Chua’s experience and of the buzz that has long surrounded her. Largely self-produced, the album has garnered rave reviews, with critics repeatedly admiring her nebulous style. YIAN is sparse and drifting. Many songs are anchored only by her vibrating cello and empathic vocals. Reverb and delay abound. It’s beautiful to listen to, yes, but there is also an urgency beneath the tranquil waters of Chua’s graceful arrangements – one that belies the idea of ambient music as passive.
