There’s something deeply primal about ‘SKINWALKER’, the debut album from Ani Even. Across eleven tracks, the artist constructs a world where the sacred and synthetic coexist, and where identity isn’t fixed, but fluid; crafting a pulse that changes shape with every beat.
The record’s concept draws on the Skinwalker myth, a being that morphs between forms, and Ani Even embodies that ethos completely. One moment, you’re lost in industrial drums that sound like collapsing machinery; the next, you’re caught in a choral trance of layered Nordic chants and guttural whispers. There’s a sense that you’re listening to something ancient reborn in circuitry.
What makes ‘SKINWALKER’ extraordinary is its range of emotion. Tracks swing between fury and tenderness, confession and chaos. Beneath its mechanical edge lies a human heart, one that is wrestling with masculinity, queerness, addiction, and fatherhood, as Ani bends myth into autobiography.
The production feels alive. Percussion hits like bone against stone, while ghostly harmonies drift through the mix like memories. There are moments that recall Fever Ray’s eerie theatricality or Björk’s fearless experimentation, yet Ani Even’s vision feels distinct.
Listening to ‘SKINWALKER’ is like standing in a storm of sound. It’s immersive, unsettling, and ultimately transcendent, offering a rare listening experiences that becomes the transformation it aims to channel.
