EP Review: Nudista – 'Halfway Here'
London-based folk duo Nudista track a journey of acceptance on their debut EP, Halfway Here.
As a whole, Halfway Here runs on the multi-faceted possibilities of acoustic (and occasionally electric) guitar, uplifting drum beats, and sonorous vocal harmonies. It’s a classic folk line-up that delivers a cosy and engrossing listen.
Nudista, made up of Robbie Carman and Pilar Matji Cabello, spend most of this EP telling the listener a story that begins with a pervasive sense of dislocation and ends with one of acceptance. Sonically, the groundswells of melody disorientate before putting you back down firmly into a catchy chorus. Lyrically, the duo mix mundanity with poetry to paint a vivid picture of the world.
‘Confess’ finds the duo where they are at their best: sitting with uncomfortable emotions with a unnerving sense of calm. This is the very essence of the EP’s mission statement – to face yourself, face who you are, who you thought you would be, and start to feel okay about it. ‘Confess’, with its country-twinged melody and lyrics that emphasise the numbing mundanity of everyday life, draws this out by the powerful admittance of being lost: ‘I must confess that I don’t know the rules, I must confess I forgot what was true.’
‘Inasmuch’ is a more optimistic turn that solidifies the EP’s strong sense of compassion. It’s a thoroughly folky tune, powered by a mixture of strummed chords and fingerpicked melodies. The repeated ‘it’s alright’ lyric that draws the song to its close is one that you can imagine going down well live and galvanises the track’s status as an acceptance anthem.
Interestingly, ‘Window’ is the only previously unreleased song on Halfway Here. It’s energetic, with deeply satisfying harmonies from Carman that give the vocal line real body. Initially, there’s a sense of urgency in the melody, communicated by a swirling fingerpicking pattern that hints at a minor key. When the chorus hits, the melody resolves onto solid sonic ground where salvation can be found. Where the previous songs had traced over and over the anxieties of existence, ‘Window’ finds comfort in the idea that there’s nothing you can be but yourself. With references to their faith (‘I know that Jesus wants me to be in sacred spaces but they’re always few and far between’), the duo find a kind of spiritual comfort.
‘Morning’, the closing track, kicks off with a rock-inspired riff over a laid-back drumbeat and recaps the EP’s earlier themes of feeling stuck and indecisive but simultaneously urgent to be productive. Cabello’s vocals come in and out with little melodic comments over a swirling, dreamy melody built from guitars, synths, and drums. Carman has his moment in the sun here also, singing a verse. He wrote the second half of the song a number of years ago during a depressive episode. At the time, he made the decision not to tell anyone what he was feeling, which imbues the song with a kind of isolation. Ending the EP on a song so steadfast in its refusal to have its feelings heard is an interesting choice, but it works. It manages to bring the importance of being open and honest into sharp focus.
Halfway Here is, in many ways, a beacon of reassurance. A sign that there is, in fact, light at the end of the tunnel. It’s an EP that feels appropriate for a post-lockdown world where everyone is trying to learn to be themselves outside again. We all need a little hope, and Nudista is here to provide it.
Words by Izzy Rowley
