Melody’s Echo Chamber Ascends Heavenward On ‘Unclouded’

For more than a decade, Melody Prochet’s songs have drifted through dream logic — language dissolving into texture, emotion refracted through haze. Unclouded, her fourth album as Melody’s Echo Chamber and third for Domino Records, doesn’t abandon that ethereal quality thanks to the arrival of the Swedish producer/songwriter Sven Wunder, best known for the lush psych-jazz soundscapes of his own dazzling discography. But here, Wunder grounds her pastel palette with something newly tactile: breakbeats, supple bass lines and strings that move like muscle rather than mist.

From the start, the rhythm section does as much storytelling as the lyrics. On opener “The House That Doesn’t Exist,” Love Örsan’s bass and Heliocentrics legend Malcolm Catto’s drumming lock into a groove that summons the home Prochet’s singing about — one built from motion and heartbeat rather than stone. “In the Stars” introduces Wunder’s calling cards with gliding strings, boom-bap beats and a melody that pirouettes between melancholy and delight. Lyrics about “finding a place I can call mine” land harder because the music itself sounds like a destination.

That physicality animates the whole record. “Eyes Closed” and “Childhood Dream” surge forward with frenetic drumming and burbling bass, tracing the boundary between control and surrender like a chocolate mushroom trip along the French Riviera. Even when the drums on “Burning Man” become purposefully muffled so as to sound like they’re in a closet two rooms over, keyboard glissandos and a Per “Texas” Johansson flute solo keep the music moving on a heavenward trajectory.

There’s still mystery here, but it’s less about distance than transformation. Unclouded reveals how clarity can coexist with psychedelia and how groove can sharpen the emotional frame rather than smudge it. Wunder’s graceful, deeply felt arrangements are key to that proposition, as Prochet’s lyrics about impermanence and renewal, once opaque, now feel illuminated by the rhythm itself.

By the time the album winds down with the Stereolab-flavored “Broken Roses” and the resolute “How To Leave Misery Behind” (“please be kind,” she pleads), Prochet has seemingly mastered the art of staying present inside the flux and dancing within the blur instead of floating above it. Throughout Unclouded, the music breathes, the feelings land and the vagaries of life are evermore illuminated.