The full-length release from Austin-based artist Ixi (Alexandra Kirkillis) offers a poignant reflection on the contemporary condition in which we all find ourselves.
At its core, the record strikes an elegant balance between the organic and the synthetic. It is a meditation on the relentless strife of modern existence—wrapped in a work that also serves as a biographical reflection of the artist’s lived experience. It embodies the search for equilibrium between our increasingly automated, sterilized, and technology-driven lives and the natural world we continue to isolate ourselves from—yet so deeply yearn to return to.
A cavalcade of primeval textures, ethereal voices, driving electronic beats, and synthesizer-infused soundscapes, Decca propels the listener forward in a series of crescendos, establishing a sense of momentum and anchoring the broader theme: the interplay between nature and machine.
This sonic palette reinforces the album’s conceptual balance between analog and digital, organic, and artificial. While the tone supports this artistic thesis, the performances themselves aren’t rooted in any one musical tradition, but rather weave a tapestry of contemporary influences.
This record is exciting. It’s fresh—and it’s unmistakably original.
Throughout, the recording explores themes of death, renewal, and the elemental world, serving as a reflective chronicle of the artist’s past ten years.
“I just kind of went with my gut instinct on a lot of the, like, the sound of things,” the artist told fans on their YouTube account. “This is what it is in my head. So, I’m not sure where it’s coming from. I did worry about the cohesion, because the genres are a little all over the place. But ultimately… that is what they sound like. I can’t imagine them any other way. I want them to be together because, again, they are that snapshot of myself.”
The producer, songwriter, singer, pianist, and educator cites Björk, Nine Inch Nails, AURORA, and Radiohead as primary influences.
With nontraditional song structures, Decca is adorned with chants and open, resonant drums that establish a timbre evoking ancestral rituals. At the same time, thick electronic textures and dance-club-adjacent rhythms conjure visions of the industrial and the mechanized.
This dynamic emerges early in the album, with the opening track, “Come to Bed,” offering a comprehensive example of these melded disciplines. What begins with layered vocals and sparse piano blooms into a sweeping, symphonic soundscape.
Next, “Calling Me Back” pivots into an echo-drenched electronic chant, driven by electronic drums—completing the tone-setting for the rest of the work. This contrast in sonic language mirrors the thematic tension between ecological fragility and a relentless drive toward consumption and progress.
Though attuned to the instability of the present, the album still offers glimmers of hope.
Ixi’s voice is at once gentle and commanding.
“Like a Fire” leans heavily into the record’s organic elements—both thematically and instrumentally. It begins with an intimate, low-key piano groove and steadily builds toward a tantric crescendo, showcasing the artist’s dynamic vocal ability.
Midway through, this duality reaches a climax with “Your God,” a track that combines hypnotic vocal layering with a digitally driven rhythmic core. The result evokes a vivid image: ancient fire rituals backed by the pulse of machines.
“Meant To” retreats to the naturalist themes established earlier, unfolding as a slow, dirge-like meditation on self-awareness. Its minimalism underscores Decca’s ongoing balance of the primal and the programmed.
“Belitany” furthers the record’s spiritual thread, delivering an upbeat choral chant wrapped in airy percussion and bell-like textures. The artist has described it as a “Renaissance festival empowerment ballad.” The song draws on the Gaelic celebration of Beltane —or Bealtaine—which marks the arrival of summer each spring.
“Silver Screening” revisits the digital realm with its echoing percussion, crisp vocals, and steadily thickening layers of synth. Despite its mechanized feel, it remains tethered to the physical through heartbeat-like percussion.
This tension between flesh and circuit courses through the album’s 37-minute runtime, culminating in the closer, “Big Womb”—an aetherial soundscape that offers a final, atmospheric release.
“This album is one of the things I must leave that would bleed if it’s not said,” the artist writes in the record’s liner notes.
As the final track fades, Decca leaves the listener in a moment of quiet reckoning. Through radical vulnerability, Ixi has traced a personal arc that mirrors our collective search for balance in a rapidly evolving world.
We are all better for it.
