about

Shalom makes strikingly direct music with such emotional openness and clarity that each track on her debut album Sublimation, out via Saddle Creek, feels like a quiet revelation. The East Coast-based, South Africa-raised artist writes fearlessly personal songs, and her honesty is so blunt it’s inviting. Featured in FADER, Stereogum & Paste among others, she clears whatever tension there is to make room for catharsis.

A lifelong writer, Shalom started playing bass in 2019 in a DIY band, and when the band broke up in early 2020 she experienced unrelenting writer's block -- one of the most painful experiences of her life. In August 2020, Shalom managed to write Concrete and quietly released a set of demos later that December, which caught the ear of Saddle Creek. The indie label took note of her distinct songwriting and put her in contact with her creative counterpart, Ryan Hemsworth. Together, the two created Sublimation entirely virtually. Now independent, Shalom's heartbeat bass lines and vocals create the feeling that you're invited: like you're being told secrets at an intimate party that you don't want to leave.

sublimation

What started as a casual collaboration with Ryan Hemsworth (Quarter Life Crisis) quickly garnered enough material to make an album. Lead single “Happenstance” finds Shalom world sick. Over a muscular bassline, she sings, “I’m waiting for the day that I can finally walk away from all this bullshit." As the track settles into a mesmerizing groove, she sings over the chorus, “I’m just trying to erase myself whenever I get the chance / my need to evaporate and receive validation at the same time.” It’s in these contradictions where Shalom’s writing thrives and is at the core of Sublimation. On opener “Narcissist,” which is so anthemic it’s meant to be played almost violently loud, the hook goes, “and maybe I’m a narcissist / I don’t even know if I exist / I wish I’d evaporate.” Shalom explains, “When I do something really embarrassing, the thing that I hear in my brain is literally “evaporate.” Her songwriting gets at two fundamental but at-odds emotions, effortlessly speaking truth to something that’s hard to articulate in real life: simultaneously wanting to be the center of attention and wanting to disappear completely. 

As much as the album hones in on processing her trauma like on “Train Station,” which deals with a sudden breakup, and “Nowadays” which deals with profound grief, there’s a resiliency that stays constant throughout Sublimation. On the ebullient and funky “Did It To Myself,” she opens herself up. She sings, “what hurts can be amazing / and now I’m back on my own, oh” over bouncy synths and a sparkling arrangement. Shalom explains, “Anytime you move forward, you have to remember the past: Most of my songs are about moving forward by dealing with a memory.” Few songwriters not only fail to match Shalom’s excavating introspection but also the grace with which she deals with these uncomfortable truths. 

Many of the songs on Sublimation came together almost instantly with Shalom sitting down with her bass and coming out with a fully-written song in a couple of hours. Standout “Lighter,” Shalom recalls, took 45 minutes. Arguably the poppiest song on the record with its breezy indie rock arrangement, she sings over shimmering guitars, “so done with being myself / I’d rather be anyone else / I’m tired of being a fighter.” Despite the unflinching subject matter, Sublimation is not a difficult listen. “The record is an introduction to me as a songwriter,” she says. “I think it shows my versatility, but really, it’s me being really honest, earnest, and naked. You can see my bones on this record. I'm okay with it though, because I’ve got to get it out.”