Singer-songwriter Gaye Su Akyol's second album, Hologram Ĭmparatorluğu (Hologram Empire), twines sultry Turkish melodies around spiky, twanging guitars and insistent rhythms. "It's a cliché, but the city is a bridge that combines cultures, and that's very true in music, especially the Greek influence," Akyol explains. "When I was young, we visited Anatolia every year. I had the chance to observe and realise the different perspectives and practices of cultures. That made me feel closer to the diversity of Anatolian civilisation." But that, and the old music on Turkish Radio Television that she internalized, were only parts of the mix that helped shape her sound. She was constantly seeking out the new and the different, something to set off sparks in her emotions. "When I heard Nirvana's Nevermind for the first time, my mind blew up. I discovered other Seattle bands, then people like Nick Cave, Joy Division, Sonic Youth, and Einstürzende Neubauten. A bit later I heard Jefferson Airplane's 'White Rabbit.' The dark, mellow mood of the music, the use of the instruments and the vocal technique of Grace Slick greatly inspired me and led me into psychedelia and then surf bands. What they all did seemed to fit with older Turkish singers I loved like Selda Bağcanand Müzeyyen Senar." The daughter of acclaimed Turkish painter Muzaffer Akyol, Akyol earned a degree in social anthropology and worked as an artist before creating music took over. She experimented, feeling her way towards her vision. And when she met the band Bubituzak, something clicked. They understood what she was doing; they became part of her art. Together they recorded her debut, Develerle Yaşıyorum, in 2013, following it with acclaimed, masked performances in Turkey and at festivals across Europe. "I love masks," Akyol laughs. "They bring mystery and fun, flexibility and a psychedelic aesthetic. Since Bubituzak are already a band, we want to use masks to cover their faces in a mysterious and symbolic way." That first disc seeded the ground. Hologram Ĭmparatorluğu bears the full fruit of the partnership. It digs deeper, fired with a seductive, shadowy passion. The sound is cinematic and gorgeous and Gaye's luminous voice brilliantly orchestrates shifting moods. Echoing the bittersweet tendrils of Turkey's faded past and dramatic present, her lyrics are bold and deeply personal. It is no surprise that she cites Turkish writers like Melih Cevdet Anday and Sabahattin Ali and the English poet William Blake as crucial artistic influences. Hologram Ĭmparatorluğu is heady, powerfully intoxicating and beautifully dangerous.