FFO: Kate Bush, Joanna Newsom, Florence Welch
Folks, have you looked at the world? Nothing’s great. Everything’s on fire. And I don’t know about your social circle, but everyone I know – myself included – is on the edge of a teeny little mental breakdown. I won’t harp more on this. But in short: We’re all going through it.
So we should find whatever moments of love, peace, and self-reflection we can, and we should hang on tight. And I’m glad that I’ve found a new piece of music to add to my soundtrack for such times: Elly Kace’s new album the seventh gate, a work that embraces the mystic, opens up new planes of thought, and pierces cracks in the darkness with its bright colorful beams of sonic light.
Kace (she/they), from Brooklyn, has grown up with music, joining her first professional choir at the age of six and going on to study operatic vocal performance in college. Her career then took her to esteemed venues such as Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center in New York, then across Europe to Milan, where she was poised to start a new chapter before the pandemic sent her back to the States. In the years that passed, Kace took up meditation and sound healing, honing her mystic studies and finding ways to entwine them with her music.
On the seventh gate, Kace has succeeded in that task. She has packed all of her expertise in both the spiritual and musical realms into the ten songs on the album, composing it as an extension of her previous record, Object Permanence. On that record, Kace explored themes of darkness, grief, and fresh pain from weathering recent losses. But the seventh gate, in Kace’s words, is “spells my soul is casting upon the spaces within myself that resist light, the ancestral whispers that silently control my life, and the desperate yearning of all parties involved to be seen and loved.”
Which is to say, each song on the seventh gate pokes a hole through the thick black cloud in Kace’s soul, letting pinpricks of light and fresh air through and eventually blowing the entire cloud away.
From the first song “Lisianthuses” – named after Kace’s favorite flower, which is notoriously difficult to grow – she makes clear her penchant for soaring vocals in harmony layered over meditative musical refrains, such as the chiming guitar and steady, soft drum beat. It is a song of self-love and yet wanting acceptance for being who she is, even if it is a lot to bear. In this song, Kace shines the light on her personality instead of feeling shame – or letting others make her feel shame – about it.
“Moon” then navigates into slightly darker musical territory, with a minor-key piano arpeggio underneath Kace’s voice exploring lower registers. Sounds shift as the music sways through different modes, giving the feeling of wandering through dark pathways into the soul. But even during this internal journey, Kace brings moonlight to guide the way and to find her way back.
On “Even with the light on”, Kace sings of cutting cords with that which no longer suits her, knowing the act may cause short-term grief as a stepping stone to long-term peace. “I found myself waking at three in the morning, sensing the explosive presence of a former love who’d passed,” she explains. “No matter the spells I cast, the lights I keep lit, some souls are tethered to my existence.” Cutting those souls hurts, but sometimes the pain comes as a necessity. The piano refrain on this track sounds like the moment just after making the cut: Wistful, brooding, but peaceful.
“The Body” feels physical, with the opening mantra’s layered vocals – which repeat throughout the song – vibrating through the ears down through the blood and against the bones. Kace’s vocal interjects in between choruses to provide what sounds like prayers, spells, or ululations of any kind. “The Body” channels pure joy, the need for unrestricted exploration, for the mind to drive its physical machine toward whatever destiny it seeks, to cast away compulsion and do what feeds not just the body, but the soul. The key change midway through the track and gradual fadeout feel like the body winding down after a long day. It must rest so it can start the next day again.
With the seventh gate touching on themes of finding light in darkness, “What would be enough” handles certainty when there seems to be nothing but uncertainty. Kace sings of speaking the truth in a relationship doomed to fail, for the sake of freedom for both parties. “What would be enough?” asks the question: What will it take for us both to be happier together than we would apart? And if the answer is unsatisfying – or nonexistent – to both parties, perhaps they may find their own truths in their own ways as separate points of light. This is the fifth track on the album, and Kace explains in the liner notes for this song that the number five represents change, which this song does well to represent.
“Gaslight” expunges all demons, plunging back into a darker sound but less as a symbol of internal struggle and more as a battle. To continue with the numerology studies: “Gaslight” is the sixth track on the album, and the number six not only represents the devil, but also healing, humanity and its flaws, and harmony. Kace sings of fighting off that which weakens her, or may cause her to feel weak, because she knows her own strength in both body and mind. The ending sounds represent the shrieks of the demons scampering away, fearing those they’ve tried so hard to harm.
Then God is seven, or in the case of the album, “Syzygy” is the seventh track. It reflects the connections – the syzygies – that we have to our partners’ past connections, even if we haven’t shared the same spaces with them. The music behind Kace’s voice consists of little more than synthesized soundscapes, soft drums, and percussion that sounds like breathing, and a muffled piano riff. But the bridge – where Kace’s vocals harmonize in a patter – sounds like a seance taking place, as if to call forth the connections that unite us all, if only to recognize their existence.
“Dust” reflects on rebirth, invoking the Biblical notion of coming from and returning to dust, continuing the cycle of life. It was the ninth of nine singles released in the lead-up to the seventh gate, and the number nine represents completion, growth, and new beginnings. But it is the eighth track on the album, and eight represents achievements, good fortune, and wealth (often material). While Kace may seek more spiritual wealth, “Dust” combines the powers of eight and nine together to find any sort of enlightenment in a new cycle.
Just before the final track of the album, we have “Backwards in blue”, an homage to the past before reaching the end. It addresses intergenerational traumas, which often cause pain in descendants they can’t place without deep therapy and uncomfortable talks with family members who may have the same troubles that they can’t address themselves. The meditative music accompanies what feels like walking down a long hallway with pictures of family members from the past, all of whom can only stare, and addressing them as Kace does: “I just want to know you.”
And then, walking through the door, there is “Pink Sky”, the sunrise on a new day or new cycle, after the healing process has completed for the moment. The song has sparse instrumentation, consisting of little more than Kace’s voice, a soft piano, and some pads. But it sounds like the quiet mightiness of the Sun coming up, casting a bubblegum hue just before its fiery yellow crests above the horizon. It represents that moment just before the day begins, before the new cycle starts, before life wakes up and makes whatever move it must in order to heal.
With all that said, what is “the seventh gate”? For anyone who has studied Hinduism, Buddhism, and/or yoga, you can replace the words “gate” and “chakra”. That seventh chakra, sahasrara, refers to the crown, the thousand-petaled lotus, through which we achieve final liberation and merging with God. But we can only achieve this after rising up through the other six chakras, understanding our traumas, navigating through our own dark paths, and unsticking ourselves from what might keep us trapped behind the gates before the seventh.
On the seventh gate, Kace has provided the medicine to help us and herself reach that liberation. She literally calls the tracks “sound medicine songs”, as each of them contains musical and mystical salves to help soothe our pains, mend our wounds, and find the strength to get ourselves past that seventh gate and embrace the love that waits for us beyond the trappings of this world. This world has too many trappings. We have to do what we can to break free from them. And while each of us may have different means of achieving liberation, listening to the seventh gate might make for a good start. Kace has certainly put in the work to help us try.
Take a listen to “Even with the light on” from the seventh gate below, and follow Kace on her socials to learn more about her music, mysticism, and live performances (which may come to a city near you soon)
Written by Will Sisskind
