The Montreal-based singer-songwriter and violinist’s music feels like an invitation to reflect. Each song recounts not just stumbling and uncertainty, but a sense of motivation.
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On KIND, Thanya Iyer’s second album, she asks listeners to question who, exactly, is nurtured by our current cultural notion of togetherness and who is left out. The Montreal-based singer-songwriter and violinist has spent the past few years exploring the intersection of baroque pop and improvisational jazz, and her music often feels like an invitation to a discussion, specifically one that calls for honest reflection and careful analysis. With KIND, Iyer transforms her songs from individual sentiments into a fluid conversation, utilizing her voice as a guide to face the unknown.
Alternating her violin parts between spritely pizzicato and languorous fermatas, Iyer stacks harmonies to create the sensation of flurrying sounds. She and her bandmates—bassist Alex Kasirer-Smibert and drummer Daniel Gélinas—are periodically joined by brass players, flautists, harpists, and a choir, who float in and out of focus. The combination turns KIND into a lucid daydream that’s constantly melting at its edges. Above it all is Iyer, crooning just above a whisper with a powerful voice that sometimes recalls a blend of My Brightest Diamond’s Shara Nova and Kadhja Bonet.
At a glance, song titles like “I Forgot to Drink Water (Balance)” and “Bring Back That Which Is Kind to You” suggest the kind of self-care advice found on pastel-hued influencer blogs. But while Iyer’s overall message is optimistic and simplistic, her intentionally open-ended lyrics allow her to chronicle a journey that grapples with racism, disability, grief, self-love, and depression, among other subjects, through the richness of the music itself. After opening with an invocation of rebirth post-loss, KIND shifts into a more determined mindset. Its narrator is faced with a choice between creating change immediately, or waiting for someone else to do so later. They opt for self-made change, of course. It isn’t immediate or pretty, and each song recounts stumbling and uncertainty, yet Iyer sows it with motivation: “Looks up to the light will find me lost in layers/Light will guide me.”
In the early 2010s, the definition of baroque pop took on a new meaning. Black and Brown artists began to elevate the genre as an experimental art form, with musicians like Moses Sumney and Sudan Archives pushing the boundaries of orchestral folk and classical instrumentation. Iyer does the same, and her ear for texture and landscape is consistently noteworthy. In “Always, Be Together,” she dots verses with raindrop-like synth notes and cut-off piano runs that make an otherwise straightforward looped rhythm feel like the portal to an alternate earth. Moments like these weave throughout KIND, without wasting space or adding flair for its own sake. This may only be her second album, but Iyer’s patience, thoughtfulness, and commitment to communal growth stands out.
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