Driftwood Isles by Veluma

Driftwood Isles came from a season no one on Siltara quite remembers like this. The usual monsoon currents, the ones that guide our islands into their familiar convergences, shifted. They pushed us apart, scattered each landmass further than ever, leaving vast, uncharted waters between us. It was a strange, unsettling time, and we found ourselves channeling that profound separation.

This album isn't just a record; it’s an attempt to capture the aching silence between islands, the desperate calls across impossible distances. We pushed our tidal recording process to its limits here. Instead of simply building layers, we let the quiet between instruments speak, letting musicians literally fade from the mix, embodying the drift, then slowly, hesitantly, return. You’ll feel the initial shock of division, the quiet lament of isolation. The kora and prepared piano don't just play melodies; they whisper memories and prayers carried on storm winds, while the frame drums and talking drums lay down rhythms that are both an anchor and a yearning pulse.

There’s a deep current of hope, too, a resilience woven into the very fabric of the music. You’ll hear those anchor songs, the ones that remind us of what holds steady even when everything else shifts. And then, there’s that moment, halfway through, when the phantom melodies start to coalesce, when the ensemble slowly reassembles, note by note, mirroring the islands almost touching again. It’s a rush of bittersweet joy, a brief glimpse of connection before the currents pull us onward once more.

That chant, the core of "Kinship Calls," it grew out of this shared human need to reach out, to find an answer across the void. It’s a rhythmic pulse that just grabs hold, an invitation to join in that universal ache for belonging. This project became our way of exploring how we find kinship when everything pushes us apart, how old rituals transform into new expressions of longing. It’s a maximalist journey, full of intricate polyrhythms and soaring saxophone lines, but at its heart, it's about a very simple, very human search. We think it offers a narrative depth that goes beyond genre, a reflection on what it means to be untethered and to eventually find a new kind of wisdom on the horizon.

Seven islands float across forgotten seas, each carrying melodies that only meet when currents align. We gather these scattered songs, weaving kora strings with saxophone calls and polyrhythmic drums that tell stories without words.