When you first approach Lantana’s debut album "Elemental" (another interesting release buried by a ton of other ones... I luckily found it before an archaeologist of the near future could have done during searches of some kind of buried civilization), you might be tempted to dismiss it as yet another addition to the crowded field of improvisational music. But don't be fooled. This is not your typical improvisational fare; it’s a profound exploration of sound that demands —and rewards — deep listening.

First, let’s talk about the ensemble. Named after a plant that often drives me in crazy while caring my garden (!), Lantana is a sextet composed of Maria do Mar (violin), Maria Radich (voice), Joana Guerra (cello), Carla Santana (electronics), Anna Piosik (trumpet and voice), and Helena Espvall (cello and electronics). A women’s band, a fact that shouldn’t be remarkable but sadly still feels novel in the male-dominated world of experimental music. The liner notes, penned with evident excitement by Joëlle Léandre, cheerfully announce: "The women are here now! So, this sextet proposes to compose and to improvise music, their own music." It’s a rallying cry that hints at both the group's unique perspective and the rich tapestry of sound they create.

Recorded over two days in January 2020 at Namouche Studios in Lisbon, "Elemental" is a showcase of how six distinct voices can merge into a cohesive whole without sacrificing individuality. The album’s opener, "Åkallan," sets the tone with its delicate interplay of strings and electronics. The track begins with what seems like an aimless conversation between instruments—plucked strings, hesitant bow strokes—until it coalesces into a unified, haunting soundscape. It’s an auditory embodiment of the album’s title: elemental, primal, and raw.

What’s particularly striking about Lantana’s music is its horizontal nature. This is not about a soloist with backup; it’s a truly collective effort. The instrumental setup defies expectations: two cellos, a violin, trumpet, voice, and electronics. There’s no percussion, no traditional rhythm section, and yet there is a rhythmic pulse that drives the music forward. This lack of hierarchy among the instruments is refreshing and aligns with the group's improvisational ethos.

"Elemental" is at its best when it leans into this collective spirit. Tracks like "Donie Ducha" (Hands of the Spirit) highlight the group’s ability to weave complex tapestries of sound. Here, the cellos oscillate between lyrical melodies and abrasive textures, while Radich’s voice floats ethereally above. Piosik’s trumpet adds a mournful edge, further deepened by the electronic interventions of Santana and Espvall.
The longest track, "I am an Ice, Some Kind of Brightness", is a journey unto itself. Opening with almost militaristic cries (amazons at charge...), it soon retreats into silence, only to reemerge with a haunting, icy melody. The piece evolves slowly, allowing each musician to carve out their own space within the sonic landscape. It’s a testament to the group’s patience and willingness to let the music breathe.
"Om Sagro" and "Birds Swim Sorcery" round out the album, each offering their own unique blend of tension and release. The former builds to a frenetic climax before dissolving into near silence, while the latter is a brief, evocative piece that conjures images of birds in flight, their wings beating rhythmically against the air.

Comparing Lantana to other artists in the field is tricky. They share the experimental spirit of the likes of Pauline Oliveros and the Art Ensemble of Chicago but bring a distinct voice that’s all their own. Their music is both introspective and expansive, managing to be deeply personal yet universal.

Lantana’s "Elemental" is an album that challenges, delights, and ultimately transcends. It’s a bold statement from a group that is unafraid to push boundaries and redefine what improvisational music can be. Let’s hope this is just the beginning for these remarkable musicians.