Niecy Blues: Spiritual Sci-Fi Ambient from the South

There’s no shortage of artists attempting to twist tried-and-true styles into oblique new forms these days. Over the last few years, it has become common to see musicians try their hand at presenting novel, airy takes on everything from techno to folk. As countless new uploads hit streaming services each week, it can be easy to become a bit jaded about the idea of anything “groundbreaking” in ambient music. Nonetheless, the recent recontextualization of a genre once synonymous with New Age spa music has produced its fair share of gems.

Landing near (but not exactly in the middle of) this saturated niche, Exit Simulation – the full-length debut from Janise Robinson (aka Niecy Blues) – manages to successfully do things differently. Smudging gospel, alt-R&B, and experimental textures, the record finds the Charleston, South Carolina-based singer and multi-instrumentalist exploring the fluid, dynamic space between familiarity and surrealism. It’s a formula that yields itself well to a release on Kranky — the influential label behind records from ambient-adjacent legends like Tim Hecker, Stars Of The Lid, and Deerhunter. Only a few months after its release, the record has already received praise and support from criticaltastemakers and Robinson’s avant-garde forebears alike.

Robinson grew up in a religious household in Oklahoma. Her first exposure to live music was through the church, when she was a child. “I think spirituality taught me how to sing and taught me how to emote; taught me how to connect to music in a way that singing at school didn't necessarily,” she says. Sneaking behind her parents’ backs, she eventually started listening to popular artists like Destiny’s Child and Brandy. Eventually, Robinson taught herself to sing by emulating those stars. They claim that R&B and gospel are the core of their artistic voice. Yet they also have a self-proclaimed affinity for meditative sounds. These influences culminate in an introspective, steamy outcome.

Robinson’s sound might be eclectic, but her process is surprisingly effortless. “I don't think it's anything I'm doing intentionally, honestly. I think it's just something that happens. I really am just drawn to those types of sounds,” they muse over zoom. Robinson is calling in from her home studio, where she’s trying to get back into the creative zone after returning from a recent show in New York City with June McDoom.

Because Robinson only plays a handful of hardware instruments, their work as Niecy Blues heavily relies on Ableton-based production. Her ornate, almost choral sound hinges on devices including Drum Buss, Simpler, and Beat Repeat. She says that Automation has been particularly useful over the years — they use it on pretty much every track to emphasize dynamics in the mix, sometimes copy and pasting automation curves between different parameters and hiding all the lanes when finished. They’re currently in the process of trying to figure out ways to incorporate Looper into their workflow. It seems as if Robinson herself is slightly surprised by the nature of their output, pointing out a spontaneity in the process that is dear to them.

“When I feel this impulse to sit down and tinker with something, I usually follow that,” they say, ruminating on the routines that shaped many of the tracks on Exit Simulation. Their grandfather was a bassist, which inspired them to build many of these songs around basslines. From there, she would introduce lush melodic instruments, like strings. Most of the songs on Exit Simulation came to life in a single focused sitting, Robinson meticulously editing and smoothing out layers as she went along.

“I think making the album kind of made me think, ‘oh, you do have to revise a little bit.’ And I am not a person who naturally goes into a space of revision. I'm, like, ‘I already lost the organic element of it,’ which is not really fully true,” Robinson says. They’ll often go months without working on any new music, then find the drive to finish four or five songs in a single day. Moving forward, they’re hoping to adopt more of a measured, regimented workflow. But the impulsiveness that beams through Exit Simulation helps it feel human.

Exit Simulation’s rough-hewn qualities also stem from the fact that Robinson is relatively new to producing in a DAW. While in the past they questioned their aptitude for working on a laptop, this record exudes a newfound confidence that partially stems from a series of carefully-chosen collaborations. After most of the record had been outlined, Robinson approached Kranky employee and seasoned electronic producer Brian Foote. He suggested that Robinson come out to California to finish recording at his home studio in Los Angeles, instead of struggling to complete the songs remotely. They enlisted Qur’an Shaheed, Aisha Mars, Mary Lattimore, and cult-favorite R&B singer KeiyaA to play and sing live, and this impressive crew breathed impromptu energy into Robinson’s computer-generated skeletons. “I think that really opened myself to the possibilities of what actually could happen if you are in a safe space, collaborating with people who aren't so centered around their ego,” Robinson fondly recollects.

The sounds on Exit Simulation shift in and out of focus, as if being beamed from behind a curtain of sweet, undulating smoke. For the most part, the album falls loosely in the ambient camp – a collection of instrumentals that are as much like lullabies as jazz jams. “1111” kicks off the record with cloudy singing and fretwork, morphing to a strange climax that is as baroque as it is ghostly. “The Night B4” is centered on echoing vocals and a faint, yet trance-y bassline generated from Arturia’s ARP 2600 V VST. The title-track similarly leans into the tenderness of Robinson’s voice, which floats above a fine mist of synths and bass warbled by Soundtoys’ Effects Rack and Ableton’s built-in submarine space effect. “You are no one I can hang on to / You are nothing I can hang on to,” she sings on the closing lines.

Other moments on Exit Simulation are more direct, pushing into comparably rhythmic terrain. “U Care” is a sheepish waltz, supported by the understated shuffle of a toy-like drum machine sequenced on Native Instruments’ Maschine and processed with Soundtoys’ Effect Rack and Ableton’s Drum Buss. It ultimately gives way to a tapestry of atonal noise, built on samples of a man frantically preaching in a Florida strip mall and of Robinson’s grandfather’s funeral. “Violently Rooted” is driven by faint, hip-hop drums sequenced on Maschine and run through Ableton’s Compressor, Auto Filter, and Drum Buss effects. The Architect” is similarly propelled by a clattering groove peppered with dubbed-out hi-hats. “Soma” is the only track on the album that came to life entirely in Los Angeles. It retains the zeal of Robinson, KeiyaA, Mars, and Foote working with additional collaborators Durand Bernarr (vocals) and William Alexander (drums) in real time. Opening with Shaheed’s key glissandos and Mars’s cinematic flute, it eventually bursts into a delicate, freeform outro that evokes ‘70s West Coast free jazz.

Vocal processing is the element that keeps things cohesive, as Exit Simulation traverses a myriad peaks and valleys. Over the course of the album, Robinson’s words are beamed through a thick film of echo and reverb, mixed so her voice bleeds into the timbres of the instruments around it. Robinson heavily relies on Ableton’s stock Echo effect, and uses it to create diffused, long cascades. Never recording their voice dry, she uses software to help her mantra-like phrases resemble more of a melodic billow than a narrative tool.

Exit Simulation is fantastical and spacey by design. Named after a novel that Robinson read over pandemic lockdowns, the record flirts with themes of science fiction and the macabre. Robinson says that film is another big source of inspiration. She was brought up on a diet of horror movies, which she says played into a fascination with otherworldly terror she first experienced growing up in the church. “My grandmother was really into horror. I remember going to her house, she had stacks of VHS tapes. She had, like, Tales of the Crypt. She had all the Stephen King… The Stand. She had Lake Placid. I mean, all the classic horror movies. And I always felt musically inspired by it because I would hear the score in the horror movies and be like, ‘ooh, I like how uncomfortable these sounds make me,’” she recalls. In addition to those formative classics, Robinson cites Juzo Itami, David Cronenburg, and Fronza Woods as directors whose movies influence their songwriting. Woods’ 1979 film “Killing Time” is even sampled on the Exit Simulation cut “Messages From Above,” which sparked an unexpected pen-pal relationship after Robinson reached out to try and get the sound bite approved for use. 

Based on a cursory spin, Robinson's music might come across more reflective than it does agitated. But these contrasting feelings go hand-in-hand, in the same way that many of Robinson's favorite outwardly life-affirming Gospel songs actually are about death. With darker influences in mind, the baseline anxiety that helps Exit Simulation feel so restless and alien becomes apparent. "I think anything that really takes me out of my head in a way that's so far out of it is something that's going to be really inspiring to me," they say, speaking on gory movies and fantasy alike. Uniting eeriness and calm under the same reverent glow, Exit Simulation thrums with light and dark magic alike.

Text and interview: Ted Davis

Photo: Koko Odogba

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