Pangea

Pangea is the hypothetical super¬continent, a land mass without borders, whose break-up gave us the continents we know today. Chet Nuneta comprises of four female singers – three French, one Italian – and a percussionist, and they introduce themselves with the ‘Falcon’s Nest’ anthem of the Komi people: lakes, forests and icy tundra evoked by hypnotic chant, buzzing drums, and the bird’s keening cry whipped away by the wind. There’s a real edge to the vocals considering it’s a Mandarin love-song, with breathy drones, a wash of synths, and the nasal strings of an Indian dilruba, before the proud stride of a young Congolese woman crashes towards us like a herd of wild boar, giving way to a Pygmy blues, lamenting de-forestation with harmonica and hypnotic work-song rhythms. And it continues just as variously: Moldavian dialect vocals with Moby-esque samples, and an Andalucía glimpsed through a reggae-tinged Arabic chant. There’s a Neapolitan protest song, Armenian overtone singing, flamenco passion, and a final Hungarian number that slams a door in our face as the party continues without us.

The percussion sometimes swamps the other elements, the lyrics are translated into French only, and it would be nice to have notes on the traditions and provenance of the songs. But in the end it’s all about the voices; they’re the glue that successfully holds this supercontinent together. Skilful singing, an impressive range of techniques, and some genuinely exhilarating ideas.