Jaan’s “Baghali” Album: A Hypnotic Drift Through Memory, Myth, and Sonic Mystery

Coming from icy Nuuk, Greenland, the mysterious artist Jaan delivers “Baghali”, a captivating ten-track journey that goes beyond the usual categorizing. Jaan seems to be anywhere from a pure ambient experimental artist to a lo-fi collage or even a cinematic abstraction. In short, Jaan has this weirdly wonderful sound which is somehow very old and very new at the same time, as if Brian Eno had entered a sandstorm with a broken tape recorder and some dreams in his pocket.

Every tone on Baghali is more found than made. The distorted tunes mix with environmental sounds, while the old synths, an uneasy flute, and the faint sound of 

guitars, perhaps representing the past, float in the void like half-remembered ghosts.

The album’s nonlinear flow conjures the feeling of digging through an old photo album, the fragments of the lives and landscapes being glued together in a scary way. Songs like “Pomegranate Garden” and “Mashid” are so intimate that they actually glow, their flaws being the core of their charm.

What makes “Baghali” extremely valuable is, however, not the work or the skill but the time. Jaan manages to record the human side in the flaws, the lyrics in the ruin. This is an album for people who look for sense in the obscure, a call to roam to lose yourself, and maybe, get something genuine in return.