Audiopile Review: Somewhere Press chase a pair of dreamtime passages from Slowfoam and Alliyah Enyo & Angel R (aka Florian T M Zeisig) with a new LP from Estonian producer/vocalist Man Rei (Kristin Reiman). In a major year of dreampop exploration, Man Rei falls even deeper into an ether that’s been expelled throughout 2024 by the likes of Malibu, chantsss and even Clinic Stars. With a church-like reverence, Man Rei floats on a vaporous air of secreted synths, languid dark-jazz guitar and a misty Badalamenti-styled atmosphere. But the most inviting aspect are Remian’s vocals, which move from delicately layered and heavy-lidded seduction to intertwining wisps of angelic ethereality firmly in the school of Liz Harris/Julianna Barwick. Her suspended-in-amber vocals also recall Alison Skidmore’s work with Andy Stott on albums like Luxury Problems or Faith In Strangers, albeit, slowed to a languid, glacial pace. We reckon this is gonna a must-grip for a few of you out there.

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Man Rei’s music traces plaintive states, haunted by hazy memories and heavy musings held in suspension. With its resonant loops, dazed iterations and eternal returns, ‘Thread’ weaves a gorgeously blurred portrait of restlessness, desire and longing.

The album grew around loungey ballad ‘Call’, first heard on last year’s ‘The Blue Hour’ compilation and serving as this collection’s tender heart. The gauzy vocals and low-lit instrumentation of ‘Call’ diffuse across ‘Thread’, which roams under a fog of low-hanging guitars, misty piano, muted synth lines and half-heard field recordings.

Man Rei sings from the shadows, sharing a poignant, raw-edged poetry that drifts in and out of ambiguity. As their lyrics stitch the literal to the ephemeral, we’re moved into a trance; considering all that’s been left unsaid; leaden with weightless feelings that slip beyond recognition.