On their harrowing and Strangely Cleansing second Album, the Brooklyn-based vocalist and poet grapples with depression, anxiety, and identity.
At one point on “Francis," a song on the Brooklyn-based vocalist and poet YATTA’s second album WAHALA, a loop of the ubiquitous ice cream truck jingle pops up. Depending on your mood, it will either stir idyllic childhood memories or set your teeth on edge. YATTA excels at inspiring these kinds of polarizing emotions on WAHALA, whose title translates from Krio into “a state of worry, trouble, a terrible mess." Short lines of improvised poetry and fragmented phrases are manipulated with a loop pedal and sent swimming across the ambient backing tracks. Over all of this, YATTA grapples with depression, anxiety, and identity, and ultimately tries to convince themselves of the near-impossible—to just buck up and be happy. When the album ends after 30 minutes, it’s like you’ve been listening to the therapy session going on inside someone else’s head. The experience is both harrowing and strangely cleansing.
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