Quite often, while reviewing music – I dunk on electropop, anything that is too reliant on synths and safely nestled in beat-topia. It is not unfounded, for the most part – it is quite apparent that a number of artists choose to hide behind the surplus of stimulating sound in favor of relegating their line of thoughts to dark. There are exceptions to that, of course – and I would be lying if I said I did not treat myself to heavy doses of EDM and techno every time I have felt my grip on my sanity loosen. AM.E.R’s music is one of those very exceptions, and while that is very little honour – being the preferred electronic artist of a freelance journalist with mostly erratic tastes – his discography is quite honestly, gorgeous.
I became familiar with AM.E.R through his second full length album, khuddar – which is arguably my personal favorite from his directory of his releases. Recently, however, I have found myself taken by his first album – mera memoirs. There is an odd joy one gains in tracing back artistic candour, finding out how one became so polished in their craft – where they hit roadbumps and whether things were entirely a life apart. mera memoirs is 9 songs long, and spans almost 33 minutes. In an Instagram post made 2 years ago – the artist writes, “Sometime last year, my mom finally convinced me to start writing in Hindi. Mera is sonic proof of this choice, and a reflection of my work from October of last year to now. Mera is an attempt at electronica in the true Indian indie pop sense … Mera is a paradox. It is dedicated to a lover and their tribulations, in its entirety. But its artist, its true subject, is entirely self absorbed. Mera is an attempt at documenting fetishized love. Love that kneels at the altar of its supposed God. But under the peeling layers of veneer, is entirely about the self.” Lyrically, this translates to the listener. For most of the record, it almost seems like the artist is amused and completely controlled by his prowess over the sounds he creates. For the most part, even when he is singing about his desires, and his desired, the songs are located within him – and not somewhere external. The tracklist takes pleasures within its slight conceitedness, especially in parts where he is full of praise for “the lover” in question — and his voice works across ripples of sounds. This is a nice study of reconstruction — because you hear so many patterns that ended up being solidified in khuddar, with sharpened skills, in their building block stage.
What I love about this album is that AM.E.R takes his time to be funny. The humor-laced start, laut ja, has phone calls of parents begging for the son to give up doing drugs – placed over a near 80s noir-synthmix soundbyte. Track 4, fbc, does something similar with the sound – with a looping chant of “yaad” and a distorted cussing out. It scratches your brain, this play of a metronomic kind, and a narcotic tendency towards making one’s voice sound as disembodied as physically plausible.
The second track jaadu, is my favorite on this record – where the artist swings his voice between a whisper and louder, clearer singing. The songwriting is intriguing on this one – and you can hear a sense of controlled abandon on this one. A lot of the lyricism is rooted in these slingshots of something you could locate in a grimy movie from a time little past. The penmanship is what you would expect from alternative Indian hindi pop from the 70s, but it is cross-pollinated in these soundbeds that are distinctly new, an era touched by 808s.
Another great number is bus beat, which begins with the now familiar touched up vocals that smoothly flows in easygoing directions, but ends with a rap verse – which sort of reminds me of his contemporary Baijoo Bawra, at least in terms of worldbuilding, and playing with tenor. These moments of plain, unfiltered delivery become points of added focus for anyone listening, because they let you hear what the artist is thinking [“beqaraar, beshumaar, I’m gonna be a star”].
All of this, is to say, that it is always an inexplicable amount of fun — going back to see the roots of an artist’s discography. Mera memoirs is nowhere near perfect, and it is not meant to be – it is moody, rampant and disjointed – and it is reflective of the nascent stages of self-actualization through releasing music of the present. Therein, I believe lies its appeal and aim — to amuse, impress and challenge — and look forward.
