Nilüfer Yanya continues to mesmerize on her superlative new record
PAINLESS finds the UK singer in heartbreakingly strong form, delivering a dozen tracks in what's quickly becoming her signature style

From a genre standpoint, Nilüfer Yanya has always been hard to pin down. She’s typically billed as an R&B singer-songwriter, but even that description fails to capture the many sounds that can make up the prototypical track from her—the smooth yet hesitant voice, the clockwork percussion, the synths that fade in and out without warning.
Across her new album PAINLESS, some of Yanya’s disparate sonic touchstones summon old-school comparisons to Sade, Fleetwood Mac, and Radiohead. And frenetic opening track “the dealer” brings to mind ’90s acts like Liz Phair, Smashing Pumpkins, and PJ Harvey. Such descriptions could make the album sound like an exercise in shameless nostalgia; it’s anything but—these songs, with their unique combinations of heartbreak, wit, and poignancy, sound both familiar and uniquely like Nilüfer Yanya.
Yanya’s voice, both grounded and airy, slides across PAINLESS’ 12 expertly crafted and unusually somber love songs. If you were looking for an emotional centerpiece to the album, early single “midnight sun” fits the bill nicely. “Love is raised by common thieves, hiding diamonds up their sleeves,” sings Yanya, while a plaintive guitar and midtempo beat click in unison. “You’re my best machine,” she continues, “you’re my midnight sun. Always I did it for you.” These lyrics, ripe with imagery and ambiguity, are typical of Yanya’s verses on PAINLESS, and when paired with her haunting melodies, they serve as strong foundations for this material. But even the more conventional numbers like “Shameless,” with its traditional lovelorn balladry and timeless premise (“Why do I lie here left needing your touch? Under it all I’m shameless, until you fall it’s painless”), leave Yanya’s personality shining through.
Producer and musician Wilma Archer also deserves credit for giving the album its uniquely contrasting sound; much of the instrumentation is crisp and tangible, while its overall feel remains murky and mysterious. “Try,” a dark waltz featuring acoustic guitar that sounds for all the world like a plucked violin, is a prime example of Yanya’s and Archer’s synergy. In its mournful paeans, the song brings to mind the work of late-’90s British singers Dido and Beth Orton, both of whom, like Yanya, deftly wield their breathy vocals in the service of a powerful track.