- It can be quite refreshing to hear a contestant on The Voice say what they’re actually thinking. In a recent interview with Acclaim, 2020 season contender Siala was hit with the not-exactly-heavyweight question ‘if you were a landscape, what would it be?’, to which she responded: “It would be in the desert, with like crows and cow heads. That’s what I picture. It’s so ****ing weird but like blood falling from the sky and I’m just walking through it, and I’m not phased. I always picture little things just trippy stuff, [laughs] blood falling from sky into the dirt and seeping into it. I always picture stuff like that, and I feel like it goes back to my roots.” Which, wait, what the hell!? Siala may have been on mainstream TV, she may be signed to EMI, but there’s a whole lot going on beneath the surface that’s a bit too intense for primetime.
That’s the stab of the whole EP, Drowned Surface, a spin on the ol' ‘not waving, but drowning’: everything appears to be okay above the waterline, but there’s a whole lot that’s roiling underneath it, which either needs to come surging up, or risk choking to death in the murky depths. Siala is putting everything into trying to say it how it feels to her - these are really raw emotions, the kind you have when you’re young, still trying to put a layer of leathery skin between your raw nerve-endings and the harshness of life. Siala says that she’s not even looking to feel good, so much as to carve out a space for herself in a messed-up place. I’ve read her describe it in a few places as ‘comfortability within self-hatred’, even that she’s trying to find a way to be grateful for her own sensitivity and empathy, though they’re also the cause of a lot of pain.
I don’t know an awful lot about Siala’s background, but I know it’s been tough. She was born in Papua and grew up in circumstances where she was experiencing domestic violence. She even talks about having to protect her own mother in those situations; so, fairly bleak. It’s no wonder there’s a lot she’s got, bubbling inside, needing to burst out. Drowned Surface enables that pretty spectacularly. Right from the get-go the songs are a whirl of intensity. Opener Blackout is a cyclone of stress, desire, aggression, hustling, self-medication, gender dysphoria and more. There’s a feeling of breathlessness between the long diatribes, as Siala is left repeating “Runnin’, runnin’, runnin’, runnin” In some ways, it’s not very far away from typical hip hop braggadocio, the whole 'street ain't gonna keep me down thing', but with her it just feels…more believable than most. I think one of the best things about her take on it, is that it's not all front: she's not just some over-the-top badass. Siala talks about trying to own her femininity on this record and you get that in part through a sense of vulnerability, showing through the chinks in the armour of the bruiser she’s had to be to get by.
The EP is wholly produced by Brisbane/Meanjin beatmaker Nerve, with whom Siala seems to share a very close and effective partnership. He brings a diverse range of styles, from trap to boom-bap, African samples, syncopated dance beats, even dubby blues. Siala meets him, pound-for-pound, with a very distinctive voice that moves effortlessly between rapping and crooning. Watch out Doja Cat, Siala is coming up and bringing the skills.
Drowned Surface is a burst of ink from the id, a cry of pain about what happened. It’s also a very confident statement, artistically, technically, emotionally, from someone who’s seen the worst and wants something a whole lot better. For all the hell she’s been through and for what she’s turned it into, Siala deserves it.
- Chris Cobcroft.