Somewhere between sleep and the uncontrollable falling into the abyss of dreams, the hypnagogic state where images of reality and perception slowly start to disappear, Kat Duma lands with her sophomore album, Lullaby: an immersive, ambient exploration of desire, longing, and detachment.
Flirting with nocturnal creatures, Kat Duma puts together an impressive collection of seven sonic meditations in the form of her sophomore record Lullaby. The Toronto-based artist depicts the blue hour with her signature experimental pop and lo-fi, and her sedative vocals vibrating in stillness and subtle insomnia-induced emotional distortion.
Lullaby steps away from the self-contained feel of her debut album Real Life, and leans into a dialogue with the outside world. Duma absorbs the murky sentiments and allows the lingering between dusk and dawn to accompany her into an open road. Encompassing a nightcall siren, Duma presents a vulnerable body of work, a conceptual elevation, serving hypnotic tendencies rooted in reflection and questioning.
Alongside the release of Lullaby, Kat Duma chats to Noctis about when she feels a project is finished, songwriting in Serbian, and her visit to the temple grounds in the Sagano area of Kyoto.
Your new album Lullaby is out now. How do you know when a record is finished? Are they ever really finished?
I don’t think you ever fully know. It’s pretty short, but it felt complete to me. At a certain point I felt like I wanted to share it, more than I wanted to keep changing things, which I took as a sign that it’s done.
What is the main sentiment behind the album title?
I think of a lullaby kind of as a guide that pulls you into that threshold between being awake and asleep. It can be a song, but I think it can also be ambient – like traffic or sirens at night. I find comfort in those sounds.
Did you find it difficult to follow up your debut album Real Life? Or did you find yourself on a straightforward trajectory creatively?
It was difficult, but not so much musically. It was more about intention, like, what do I want to say and why? I’ve learned that I’m a pretty private person, so I need to feel like it can mean something to someone other than myself, if I’m going to share anything at all.
Do you remember when you felt like the concept for Lullaby clicked for the first time?
Somewhere in the process, closer to when the songs were finished, I realized they were all circling the same space. Specifically, looking at night time as a condition where things take on a more symbolic weight and structure falls apart. It all tied back to that hypnagogic state and the concept of a lullaby.
Was it important for you to honour your Serbian roots on this record with ‘Evo ti srce na dlanu’?
Not really in a deliberate way. I just thought it was a beautiful song and wanted to see what would happen if I translated it into my own language, sonically.
How do you find songwriting in Serbian, easier or more difficult than in English?
More difficult. I grew up in Canada, so my English is more precise.
How would you say Real Life introduced you as an artist? And what layers were you able to peel off with your new album Lullaby?
Real Life felt more internal and self-contained. Lullaby is more in dialogue with the outside world. If Real Life was me against myself, Lullaby is me against myself in relation to everything else.
Your latest single ‘Mirrored Water’ is inspired by your visit at the temple grounds in the Sagano area of Kyoto. What was it about the reflections in the dark, still pools that resonated with you at that time of your life?
They were very striking. But that perfect reflection of the sky above completely hid what was underneath. I wanted to know how deep the pools were, what lived under the water, if anything? I guess that idea really stuck with me.
Is there an emotional sensation that you find particularly inspiring to create?
Probably when something feels wrong in a good way. That’s usually where it gets interesting.
Could you also tell us more about the contextual inspiration behind the cover art for Lullaby?
I saw this album living in a world of blue. Blue hour is my favourite time of day and I really wanted to convey that murky, fuzzy feeling, where you can’t really tell if it’s dawn or dusk. It also references the open road from Long Highway, which is the first song we made on the record.
How would your younger self react to your career today?
It’s an interesting question and I guess I’m not really sure. I had a lot of ideas about what I was supposed to want, but most of them ultimately just didn’t feel like me. It’s funny because it’s really a simple idea, being true to yourself, but it only makes sense once you’ve gone against it enough times.
How would you describe your artist aesthetic?
I’m drawn to things that feel beautiful but a bit unstable, like they could collapse or distort at any moment. There’s a kind of tension in that space that I find very generative.
Do you remember what was the moment or artist, or a song that initially drew you into the music world and songwriting?
I actually don’t really have any memories of a time where I wasn’t playing music. I started playing violin around five years old, and to be honest, my memory is pretty bad in general.
How are you going to celebrate the release of Lullaby?
Probably something low key on the day, but soon after I’m excited to play some shows. The live versions of the songs are so different. I reinterpreted them all to fit a more communal listening experience so I really can’t wait to see what happens.
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Words: Karolina Kramplova
Photography: Justin Aranha, Kevin Hegge & Viktor Cahoj