Félicia Atkinson is one of those people who’s floated around on the edge of my consciousness for yonks without quite managing to register properly. Well, that’s all changed with this quietly brilliant record. It’s based around an electronic ambience or neo-classical drone. There are occasional sprinkles of melody (a reverberating jazzy trumpet, a piano, a clamour of bells). But the most striking elements are Atkinson’s beguiling spoken word recitations, mostly a kind of ASMR muttering of fragments of poetry or overheard conversation (occasionally in French, mostly in French-accented English, often layered and overlapping). The whole thing hovers tantalizingly on the edge of comprehension in a way which I find compels my attention and makes me want to keep coming back for more.
I bought this from Boomkat. They call it Electronic.