Nilüfer Yanya blends inspiration and method on My Method Actor

She emerged from the indie-rock stylings of her previous work, including her full-length debut, 2019’s Miss Universe. Pivoting into a lush amalgam of hooks and sonics, her vocals were sultrier than ever, her soundscapes exquisitely textured. Additionally, her lyrics reflected a newly accessed poeticism and vulnerability. With Painless, she broadened, deepened, and streamlined her MO, the album representing a stylistic culmination, an arrival of sorts.

Yanya’s new album, My Method Actor, her first LP with Ninja Tune and third with producer Wilma Archer, shows the artist embracing a similar eloquence, though the sequence feels more intentionally curated, forged via a more methodical approach. “Keep on Dancing”, for example, emulates the lushness and sensuality of Painless but unfurls as more strategically constructed, from the alternating single/double vocals to various percussive transitions to the precise variety and placement of accents: a guitar strum here, a synthy flourish there, understated welters that come and go.

If Painless exudes the magic of an artist discovering new plateaus, My Method Actor is a refinement of those now integrated proclivities. The catchy “Like I Say” is built around a dancey beat and an exemplary hook. Sprawls of static are well-employed, contrasting with Yanya’s fluid yet potent voice. Everything is in place, moving systematically between order and flux, between maximalism and restraint. The set’s spontaneous vibe belies a clear design, a comprehensive production MO.

The title song conjures both a Saturday night rave-rush and the closer-to-dawn after-sway. Exhilaration and exhaustion. Peak and crash. Yanya’s vocal is as poised as ever, the singer in full command emotionally and technically. “Faith’s Late”, meanwhile, is a darker missive re: lacking direction and feeling disempowered (“I feel shame the modern way / … I feel caged and far away”). And yet, again, there’s poise here; despite the heavy-toned confessions, the singer remains centered, capable of maneuvering what life throws at her.

With “Binding”, Yanya similarly dives into melancholia. She addresses being lost (“We chase each storm / it takes me nowhere”), disillusioned with pursuing highs and enduring subsequent crashes. While the drive behind Painless occurs as audacious, even cogently reckless, My Method Actor stands as a rite of passage, Yanya stepping into a more observant orientation, including observing the machinations of the self/ego and gleaning insights that can inform the future. “Ready for Sun”, too, is a steamy and R&B-inflected self-inquiry, Yanya’s voice framed by synthy drones, echoey guitar licks, and crystalline percussion.

“Just a Western” unfurls as an oblique riff on the unpredictability of love and, more pressingly, how people in love, juggling enthrallment, hormonal fluctuations, and fear of commitment, often exist in the grips of a distinct volatility. Being curious, while holding reasonable boundaries, frequently seems like the only viable antidote – for everyone involved as well as the innocent bystander who happens to be in the vicinity. Along those lines, Yanya uses the final track, “Wingspan”, to wisely conclude, “Here comes destiny”, her voice bathed in trebly drones and a peripheral sound that recalls the flow of water, frequently utilized as a symbol of adaptability.

Speaking of destiny: My Method Actor underscores that even the creative frisson that prompts a milestone project such as Painless inevitably waxes and wanes, melding with method. Method, though, isn’t a consolation prize. Method can be a worthy guide, pointing to new vistas. With her latest album, Yanya finds an alternate promised land, spirited but with less of the abandon that might accompany a more Dionysian experience. Navigating energetic and aesthetic paradoxes, she’s inspired by an expansive work ethic as much as her loyal muses.