"Melodi" by Kit Sebastian
Kit Martin, based in both London and France, and Merve Erdem, based in London, make up the two halves of Kit Sebastian. The group was formed in 2018, with their debut album Mantra Moderne being released the following year. I had first caught a whiff of Mantra Moderne in 2020, date unknown, for all the inferable reasons. From “Pangea” (which I recommended to a friend for her “getaway car” playlist) to “With a Sense of Grace,” a rich and sensual piano track on the tail end of the album, I was enchanted by their fusion of Anatolian Psychedelia and Brazilian Tropicalia—the former being a token of childhood mornings in my dad’s house. Artists like Os Mutantes and Gal Costa were introduced to me through Sonos radio, though most often met with instinctual defiance: “Dad, this sounds weird, turn it off!” Kit Sebastian came around at a time where I was old enough to be grateful for these early exposures, and dropped me back into the world of Brazilian Psychedelia and Bossa Nova with less judgment and angst riding on my opinions. The exploration extended all the way to South American politics, learning how Tropicalia emerged in the 1960s as a response to the oppressive regime of the Brazilian stratocracy. There’s also a nod to these older influences in the band’s production: the tracks were mixed with modern technology, then recorded through an 8-track cassette tape, demonstrating the “lo-fi-hi-fi” method that Kit Sebastian claims to use.
After getting to know the band, I was consequently led to their sophomore album, Melodi, released in October of 2021. My main issue with this album is its lack of experimentation in comparison to Mantra Moderne. They seemed to continue on with the concepts and influences that were fleshed out in the debut. “Yeter,” the third track off of Melodi, for example, brings back a piano riff from their debut album’s song “Kuytu,” which has a similar ambiance. However, Erdem’s vocals are delivered more desperately on “Yeter.” “Elegy for Love,” the leading single off the album, provides a sensual moment, with some sexy spoken word from Erdem. The key changes in “Affet Beni” keep the listener on their toes, but the steady drum beat lays the foundation for the song and provides just enough consistency to remain a coherent track. As I felt with much of the material on Mantra Moderne, the track felt quite mischievous, accompanied with a sick drum breakdown towards the end.
The cute little love song, “Please Don’t Take This Badly'' finishes off the album with the lyrics: “Please don’t take this badly / but I love you madly…” I’m a sucker for a good and simple love song, but I can’t say this one stuck out as an earworm or a breakthrough. Nevertheless, it provided a sweet and light fade-out to a (mostly) sweet and light album. Even without complete lyrical translation, Kit Sebastian’s music invokes a romantic atmosphere, and their strength in sonic storytelling remains unquestioned.
— Caroline Newhart