Myrtus Myth by Kedr Livanskiy

The alchemy by which history becomes myth is mysterious. Much is lost to time and reinterpretation, but the result is something more universal, a symbol. All artistic practice, in this sense, is a practice of myth-making, an experience rendered universal through abstraction. Russian musician and producer Yana Kedrina, who goes by the stage name Kedr Livanskiy, is intimately familiar with this process, having crafted ethereal, far-flung dance tracks for the better part of a decade. On her fourth studio album Myrtus Myth, she draws on mythologies both public and personal to craft an expansive experimental pop album and Dante-esque journey through the self.

There’s always been an element of esotericism to Kedr’s music, from the slow-burning choral synths that anchored her debut EP January Sun to the delicate strings and churchlike harmonies of 2021’s Liminal Soul. Even her clubbier releases, 2019’s Your Need and 2023’s K-Notes, depict mysterious forests, enveloping clouds, and foreboding winters. Of all her discography, though, Myrtus Myth seems to gesture most directly towards Ariadna, her far-reaching but understated first album, wherein she fused William Blake poetry with skittering lo-fi techno and minimalist ambient soundscapes. The same reverberating synths, echoing vocals and innovative song structure that punctuated Ariadna fuel Myrtus Myth, but this time the scope has broadened. This is due in part to the work of producer and visual artist Flaty, known for his experimental, futuristic releases on labels such as Gost Zvuk and his own imprint ANWO. Though he and Kedr have worked together frequently in the past (both as co-producers on Your Need and in their band, Kosaya Gora), Myrtus Myth represents a deeper collaboration, with Flaty producing and writing the entire record for the first time. Together, the two artists transcend dance structure completely, incorporating live instruments and new vocal techniques to bridge influences from vaporwave to Kate Bush to Phil Collins.

In doing so, Kedr and Flaty have further unburdened the hauntological impulse that has long driven her artistic output. In some places, the ghosts are literal, as on lead single “Anna”, a full-fledged ‘70s tune featuring live drums, strings and melodies reminiscent of Rumours-era Fleetwood Mac. It’s the closest thing Livanskiy has made to a straight-ahead pop song, a touching ode to a lost friend awash in a cloud of echoey haze and Kedr’s soaring vocals. In other instances, the references are more subtle – on “Purple Sadness”, Flaty’s crunchy synths and autotuned vocals evoke the cloud rap of the early 2010s, while “Agata Dreams”, a downtempo ‘90s electro-pop song, channels French-Canadian pop star Mylene Farmer.

Though stylistically diverse, Myrtus Myth comes together through the narrative structure of Livanskiy’s storytelling. Written in her native Russian, her lyricism is at its most immersive on this album, a hero’s journey recounted over 11 tracks. “Orpheus” uses the classic Greek myth as an introductory touchpoint to the record - over a delicate arrangement of twinkling synth tones and operatic chirps, she casts the titular musician’s story as a testament to the long-lasting power of artistic tradition. On “Night Trains”, we find our hero departing home for their epic journey, as the refrain “leave on familiar trains, leaving cities” repeats over a bassy, looping electronic beat. The journey reaches its apex on standout track “Spades on Hearts”, an anthemic battle cry with rhythmic keys and declarative marching drums. “My body is armor,” our protagonist declares, “this is a game where you lose!” Defeat looms, however, and on “Smoke and Ashes” a vaporwave-indebted droning synth underscores the hero’s lament: “nothing remains…I’m tired of walking this path.” Livanskiy concludes her myth with the haunting “Kali-Yuga”, a post-apocalyptic elegy for a “deserted city [singing] its last song.” Livanskiy sings in far-off-sounding churchlike harmonies, Flaty’s production so delicate it threatens to shatter.

It can be hard to orient oneself within Myrtus Myth, where sounds flicker from distant rooms and history seems to collapse into itself. But it’s precisely this feeling of disorientation that allows Livanskiy to realize her project. “The last couple of years have been incredibly difficult for many people on earth,” Kedr explains. “This album is a reflection on painful topics through the prism of the mythical, dreamlike and otherworldly.” Despite its narrative conclusion, it would be a mistake to read Myrtus Myth as a tragedy. It’s an album that gestures outward: by weaving together far-reaching and fantastical elements, Kedr seeks to tell a story that’s familiar for its stark humanity. The imagined hero’s city has been lost, but it’s just a myth after all. It’s us who are real, and we have time.

‘Myrtus Myth’ marks a bold departure from Kedr Livanskiy’s club-centric past, blending art pop, electronica, and vaporwave with literary and mythological themes. Drawing influences from Kate Bush and Fleetwood Mac, to dark wave and gothic ballads, ‘Myrtus Myth’ is an odyssey of spiritual discipline and artistic maturation.

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