Music
Drone Composer Kali Malone Finds Sublime in Bach's Organ
Drone composer Kali Malone wields Bach’s organ to create a breathtakingly intense pop record, *Burning Song*. This review explores how Malone trades technical composition for raw emotion, using compact forms and jarring sonic shifts to forge an unforgettable experience that sits at the volatile intersection of experimental sound design and profound personal feeling.

The Architecture of Emotion: Kali Malone's Drone Landscape
Drone composer Kali Malone has carved out a distinct space in the experimental music landscape with her latest pop record, *Burning Song*. This isn't just another electronic exercise; it’s an intensely personal excavation where technical composition is deliberately set aside in favour of raw feeling. Malone signals a move away from lengthy contrapuntal structures, opting instead for compact forms and mood shifts that demand immediate attention. The soundscape itself is built on tension and release, moving from sustained notes that evoke the distant sound of a ship’s horn to moments that feel like blazing final sunsets.
The sonic texture is anything but passive. Listeners are immersed in a trio whose interplay—the crackle, breath, and scrape—simmers intensely, creating an atmosphere that is both fragile and fiercely intense. Malone’s exploration delves into the sublime, seeking an 'indescribable feeling' through her work. This quest for transcendence is palpable as the music navigates dramatic shifts: from the solemnity of opening notes on *Map the Path* to moments where she appears to lift her fingers from the keys, shaking the listener by the shoulders.
The context of this creation is layered; Malone has connected deeply with the historical resonance of her environment, performing at Leipzig’s Thomaskirche, a site steeped in centuries of musical history. This juxtaposition—modern drone composition against the backdrop of Bach's legacy—adds an unexpected layer to the emotional weight of *Burning Song*. It positions her work not just as contemporary art, but as an engagement with enduring structures of sound and devotion, even as she seeks to dismantle them.
The Folk Counterpoint: Sonic Collages in the Wider Scene
While Malone’s work is rooted in drone and experimentalism, the broader musical conversation shows a willingness to embrace radical sonic collage. This spirit finds resonance in groups like Shovel Dance Collective, whose *Everything in Readiness* album exemplifies an ecstatic, dissonant folk approach that fights for sonic and spiritual freedom. Their sound is a chaotic tapestry, leaping from grinding one-note drones to reels that blend traditional folk fiddle playing with the punishing squall of the Velvet Underground.
This collision of historical material and abrasive sound creates an experience that is both disorienting and strangely euphoric. The music moves unpredictably, shifting between lo-fi recordings caked in distortion and tumultuous racket. This approach suggests a search for connection through turbulence—a reaffirmation that history, even its violent or strange aspects, can be channeled into something visceral and alive. It’s an impulse that pulls the listener into a purgative release amidst the sonic chaos.
This broader trend highlights how contemporary artists are repurposing historical musical forms, finding new emotional language in the past. Whether it's Malone using Bach’s organ to forge a personal sublime or Shovel Dance Collective recontextualizing traditional songs, the underlying mechanism is the same: taking established structures and injecting them with urgent, often abrasive, contemporary energy. This demonstrates a shared impulse across genres to find profound meaning in sonic disruption.
The Energy of Live Performance: From Church to Chaos
The performance aspect of this music is crucial to understanding Malone’s vision. Her work suggests a deliberate staging, transforming the sacred space of the Thomaskirche into a venue for intense sonic drama. The way she manipulates the sound—from sustained tones to sudden bursts of noise—is designed to physically engage the audience, moving them through emotional extremes rather than simply observing a performance. This is music that demands presence; it’s not background listening but an active confrontation with sound.
In contrast to Malone's focused intensity, other scenes are embracing a more visceral, communal energy. The Mary Wallopers, for instance, deliver a raw, rowdy folk experience where the audience participation—legs and pints flying—is central to the event. Their take on old stories is delivered with spit-and-sawdust energy, using traditional forms to confront contemporary issues, proving that tradition can be both deeply rooted and fiercely relevant in a live setting. This contrast underscores the diverse ways artists are currently channeling cultural memory.
Ultimately, what matters now is this dynamic tension: the highly focused, almost ritualistic intensity of Malone’s drone work versus the sprawling, communal energy of folk ragers. Both approaches serve a purpose—one seeks an indescribable internal feeling through meticulous sound design, the other seeks catharsis through shared, physical noise. This spectrum shows that in contemporary music, profound meaning is found both in the quiet, focused moment and in the explosive, collective release.
Cultural Stakes: The Search for Authenticity
The critical reception of *Burning Song* speaks to a current cultural hunger for authenticity in music. Malone’s decision to forsake established compositional canons in favour of personal emotional truth aligns with a wider trend where artists are actively dismantling traditional structures to articulate complex, messy realities. This move reflects a desire to bypass manufactured polish and deliver something immediate and deeply felt, even within the often-abstract realm of drone.
This pursuit of unfiltered emotion echoes across the industry, where there is an ongoing friction regarding what constitutes genuine artistic expression versus calculated output. Malone’s work positions her as someone who is not afraid to be unsettling or brutally direct, suggesting that true artistry lies in confronting difficult emotional states head-on, rather than offering easy resolutions. This resonates with a broader cultural moment where listeners are seeking music that mirrors the complexity of modern experience.
The success of this kind of work signals that there is an appetite for music that acknowledges struggle and endurance without resorting to simple sentimentality. By wielding such powerful, historical instruments like the Bach organ within a contemporary drone framework, Malone anchors her personal search for feeling in something monumental, suggesting that even in abstract soundscapes, deep human narratives persist and demand to be heard with breathtaking clarity and power. This is music that doesn't just entertain; it forces a reckoning.
The Legacy of Sonic Experimentation
The legacy of sonic experimentation is evident in the willingness of artists to push boundaries, whether through the meticulous layering of drone textures or the chaotic collage of folk revivalists. Malone’s approach—using familiar, powerful elements like Bach's organ as a launchpad for something entirely new—is part of a lineage where tradition is not merely replicated but actively interrogated and reassembled. This interrogation allows for a fresh perspective on established musical language.
The dynamic between the structured and the chaotic—the precise control over drone versus the unpredictable bursts in folk music—shows that artistic vitality thrives at the intersection of discipline and freedom. It’s this tension that keeps the music compelling, preventing it from settling into mere stylistic comfort. The willingness to sound 'brutal' or 'unforgettable' is what grants these works their lasting impact, positioning them as vital contributions to the ongoing dialogue about what music can achieve when it dares to be both deeply personal and radically experimental.
‘That made it feel like a church for music,’ Malone told Blackbird Spyplane.
‘I want an indescribable feeling’: composer Kali Malone on her search for the sublime.
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