Album Review: OHYUNG — 'IOWA'

My first recollection of meeting Lia Ouyang Rusli was at a Feed Me Weird Things show she performed at as OHYUNG. I had been asked to provide lights and haze. I didn’t completely know what to expect outside of a request for strobes. If you want strobe lights, you’re already after my heart, and Lia’s soundcheck and ultimate performance did not disappoint.

I remember her viscerally meandering around Trumpet Blossom, many of the tables moved off to the side. My final image is of her laying on the floor amidst strobing fixtures that lit up the venue, surrounded by a truly fascinated audience.

To the present, I was aware that there was a new OHYUNG album out, but somehow it escaped me that it is named IOWA — specifically chronicling her time here in Iowa City. Unfortunately, the first thing that came to mind upon hearing the title is the consummate Slipknot album and not a riff on Springsteen’s Nebraska. But maybe that’s part of the charm.

The starting track “purgatory,” likely named for a long-stewarded house venue inconspicuously situated in an Iowa City neighborhood like any other, begins our aural adventure. The track opens with a string-like synth and vocal melody reminiscent of modal church music. There is then a brief moment, a sub-dominated “explosion,” that transitions us into a recurring do-re-mi melody. The track has an element of yearning. We never reach the fa. It can be difficult to leave purgatory.

Nine tracks later, “christofascism” returns with the same choral voices and melody. Humming in the background, if you listen carefully, there is now a solo vocal line that harmonizes with the foreground hymn. The dub “explosion” is more urgent, constantly appearing. A continued moment of climax.

IOWA is spatial, open, introspective. The sounds of boots in the snow step softly in “black angel,” which both verbally declares and reminds the listener of the Jan. 9, 2024 blizzard; Lia’s parakeets occasionally chirping in the background; vague sounds of thunder and other field recordings hidden throughout a world of strings and familiar, yet forgotten, melodies.

The 12-minute monolith, and final track, entitled “memorial” was written for Chris Wiersema, who I need not introduce. Iowa City’s Toyaway, Patrick O’Connor, adds an extra synth, accompanying Lia. Despite the track’s simplicity, there are still so many sounds to behold. The familiar choral vocals have been further modulated and truncated, small spurts of static drenched in reverb. Very softly, at the tail end of the track, there is finally a resolution to the first track’s yearning — a cadence to remind us our time is done.

Many of the album’s tracks, as mentioned, include what could be described as “celestial voices.” This becomes particularly striking in the second track, and single, “all dolls go to heaven.” While that is likely true, as this style reappears throughout the album, we are then faced with the perennial question: “Is this heaven?”

No. It’s IOWA.