Katie Hawthorne 

Dua Saleh: Of Earth and Wires review – ambitious confrontation of global catastrophe is surprisingly cautious

While the first track is a scorching mix of poetry, rap, falsetto vocals and acoustic guitar, elsewhere the Sudanese-American’s second album feels a little underbaked
  
  

A woman standing in the desert
Bumpy ride … Dua Saleh. Photograph: Braden Lee

Spoken-word poetry about Prometheus, screamo rap, sun-dappled acoustic guitar, airy falsetto … and that’s just the first track on Dua Saleh’s Of Earth and Wires, their second album rooted in real-world crises and fictional lore. The Sudanese-American musician (best known for collaborating with Travis Scott and playing Cal in Netflix’s Sex Education) draws on fears of climate collapse and AI dominance, as well as the catastrophic civil war in Sudan, for a post-apocalyptic sequel to the fictional queer romance at the heart of their debut record.

This is a lot of terrain to navigate, but that opening track, 5 Days, tackles it with real guts, twisting from tremulous vocals reminiscent of Perfume Genius into a hot flash of screamed frustration. It promises an exhilarating, bumpy ride – but Of Earth and Wires turns out to be more cautious than its urgent ideas would suggest.

Instead, Saleh gives us glimpses of narrative over warm, earthy, all-too-brief tracks. A Sudanese proverb acts as a cryptic warning on I Do, I Do, a synth-pop slow jam with flushes of gorgeous oud, while Flood – a falsetto exchange with Bon Iver – gently meanders around imagery of biblical rebirth and climate extremes. Firestorm is a love song set against the LA fires, but it lacks heat: Saleh’s slinky R&B vocals are fuelled only by desire, with references to burnt-tyre fumes reduced to set-dressing. Burying those high stakes means the heartfelt hope on choral closer All Is Love doesn’t land as it should. Saleh has a unique artistic voice, but moments of tension and release would breathe even more life into their stories.

 

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