The debut full-length from Brooklyn-based musician Rachika Nayar, Our Hands Against the Dusk, is animated by the experience of “touch”—not just caress, but encounters, collisions, and the point of contact between worlds. Nayar composed the album over four years by processing her textured guitar playing with digital means and combining the resulting sounds with shimmering synthesizer crescendos, lyrical piano, and orchestral strings. Via these methods, the album synthesizes a range of genres—ambient, deconstructed electronic, neoclassical, even Midwestern emo and beyond. It’s a shifting stylistic bent that reflects a queer life woven between ever-evolving identities, discourses, and spaces.

The diverse influences are visible on longer tracks such as “Losing Too Is Still Ours,” which extends from rippling guitar figures and keening vocals to methodic, marching strings. Such titles reference a range of personal and cultural images—a Rainer Maria Rilke poem of great personal importance, an Indian mystic at whose Pondicherry ashram a family member had a moment of Hindu “darshan,” and other vivid motifs.

For Nayar, the album’s fluid but always deeply felt form is thus a way of translating that which could never be summed up with static names, words, or feelings. To that end, Our Hands Against the Dusk mines the flux and discontinuity of experience as fertile ground. Nayar’s debut invites us to join alongside it in thinking beyond metanarratives, as musical and emotional histories touch in its twilight space and refract into a multifaceted whole. In that endeavor, Our Hands Against the Dusk is an embrace and a hope.