Okovi

Zola’s latest, Okovi, is more homecoming than course correction.

The production is absolutely masterful. The conviction is assured; the weightiest of subjects: that of 'life' and 'death' are tackled and shackled by Zola exper

Okovi’s dramas are hard to miss.

By nature of confronting so much gloom Okovi can weigh heavily on listeners, but the brighter numbers mixed in make it easier to soak up.

Danilova’s vocal fluidity is what drives the record most. She’s dramatic (without being overly so), deeply powerful and passionate, whether she’s expressing anger, desperation or love.

Zola Jesus is back to her dark roots, but enriched by intense layers of experience. [Oct 2017, p.55]

While it’s a release that might disengage fans of her more sub-rosa earlier material of yore, Zola Jesus has evolved into an artist where pop--born from a need to mend from trauma or otherwise--is no longer a recurrent secondary descriptor, but a primary one. Danilova has loosened the shackles that have made this remarkable metamorphosis possible.

A deeply comforting album, Okovi is some of Zola Jesus' purest-sounding, most profound music in years.

Sometimes it sounds bleak, sometimes it sounds glorious, but it’s in embracing the full gamut of life experience, as Zola Jesus does here that nothing becomes everything. The shackles might still be on, but this is the sound of an artist reveling in freedom.

Each track comes with a reminder of how trauma makes monsters of us all, but in the centre of it all Danilova’s strong, clear voice is the will to keep going.

An album to light the way through the darkest hours.

A decade-plus of refining this particular sound has led to the purposeful pop of Okovi, her sixth album. Danilova’s vocal performance momentarily recalls darker and more secretive Sia songs.

For a project that centres on tragedy, though, Okovi feels remarkably vital. After five albums, Zola Jesus's balancing act remains compelling.

Dripping in catharsis that seems to pour straight from Danilova’s soul, Okovi is rarely an easy listen, even when it’s at its most accessible. But it’s also profound, and Zola Jesus’ most emotionally stirring record to date.

It's a deeply emotive and enthralling journey. [Jul - Sep 2017, p.62]

Zola Jesus’ distinctive, dramatic voice has always been the prime weapon in her arsenal, and on new album ‘Okovi’ it sounds more brooding than ever.

Danilova's music is often at its best when her powerful voice complements the gloomy arrangements rather than towers over them.

Okovi won’t topple Stridulum II as the most essential Zola Jesus record, but it’s another excellent record that once again showcases a unique and powerful voice.

It’s a philosophically messy record, and it goes without saying that it cannot offer us any answers to life’s big questions, but what it can and does do is reorient the questions we ask on the subject, and that can be infinitely more valuable for our understanding of death in the end.

The songs' operatic grandeur evokes the music of Dead Can Dance and Diamanda Galas at its most epic-scaled. [Oct 2017, p.40]

Danilova’s most accessibly gothtastic numbers bear worrying resemblance to a pitch for a songwriting credit on the next Evanescence or Lorde album. Yet there’s no denying that tracks such as Veka and Wiseblood are bangerz of the highest, and indeed saddest, order.

Heavy with feeling throughout, it makes for a record that’s often a tough listen. But for cathartically allowing herself to tackle life’s most difficult subjects, you’ve got to applaud her.

There are moments when it becomes a bit Baltic Eurovision, but Okovi is as tender as it is tough. [Oct 2017, p.111]