Daydreams of a Curious Girl Musing Under the Brightness of the Sun
Hannah Jadagu’s capabilities as an artist are not difficult to spot. If it’s somehow hard to be convinced of that, look no further than how she recorded her debut EP What Is Going On?: on her iPhone. With Aperture, she’s finally earned herself a position in a studio, releasing a spate of sincere songs dedicated to the distant someones and untouchable somethings all folks must live with. She, in fact, has a track called “Letter to Myself,” and it would not have been inappropriate to call the entirety of the album the same thing, as each work here has an epistolary effect, surrendering themselves to the intimacy of handwritten paragraphs.
Jadagu’s voice jumps with the guitar every time it appears. She strums it steadily, riding each humming sound it makes like one would a bicycle. Since she seemingly possesses a knowledge of what attracts ears right away, her placement of “Explanation” as the opener turned out to be a fantastic choice. The boundaries of the galaxy are what she’s reaching for, and throughout the journey of self-improvement that the track seems to be characterized by, she soars through the stars, but doesn’t come up short in not preparing her audience for the entropy to come. Lots of tension happens, too, as the outro meets its birth.
“Say It Now” might be the richest off the record. It includes chilly chords, lo-fi-like sounds, with a booming guitar and drowned drum machine. The kicks on this track kick the ears in the same way a foot does a soccer ball, scoring goals each time. Jadagu’s lamentations echo like a lone voice in an abandoned forest. While that could cause a drift between listener and artist, the synthesizer in use makes a playground of a beat, and both are allowed to stand on their own two feet.
Jadagu is skilled at thriving in the seconds leading up to a leap that has to be made. At times it would seem that she has trouble trusting herself as an artist with this album, because of how she uses brief bits of anaphora on “Admit It” and “What You Did,” somewhat diluting the impact of those tracks. But she’s also just so talented at making her audience feel the fever she’s fighting. She does so by way of the inclusion of relatable ramblings replete with heartfelt rhymes, as in, on the track “Lose,” “Moving on with you/What more could I do?/It’s best if this is something new,” and others that repeat those signature phrases all lovers tell one another under broken moons, such as “I’ll admit—I’ll admit—I’ll admit it.”
There’s a fair share of punky heartbreak music on “What You Did.” Blissful and more upbeat than others, Jadagu’s got soul; she’s groovy, jazzy and bluesy simultaneously, managing the beauty of the blend with flying colors and singing over lyrics that contain her feelings of indignity toward someone who’s likely wronged her in love. A theme she appears to be grappling with has to do with the complexities of being infatuated with someone at a young age. The whole of the record seems to consist of her attacking either the same person or different people in most of the songs present, haranguing them about what they’ve done to her and how they’re actually supposed to proceed in the world she’s made for herself as a queen.
With the addition of a great capper that accentuates this album’s beauty as a shooting star, Aperture is the word its title means: a hole, gap or opening. That may be something within Jadagu that she must overcome on her own, but it’s clear she may be able to do so with the help of her stellar music. Every track sends the audience off into orbit, offers her a chance to channel the inner rockstar dwelling inside of her and creates cinematic chaos. Something is transmitted here, and while it’s semi-unclear what that may be, the intrigue lies in the enigma of the aperture.
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