exystence club

For almost a decade now, South London artist Klein has been a compelling figure at the very vanguard of British avant-garde music.
Ever since Tommy, her scrambled, glitching breakthrough EP released on Hyperdub in 2017, her fractious sound collages – tapestries of steely, shuddering textures and disembodied vocals – have earmarked her as an artist who really gets the paranoia and neuroses of the age in which she is working. Meanwhile, her prankster tendencies have ensured that you simply never know what she’s going to get up to next.
But in spite of the many accolades her music has won her, the legions of famous fans and collaborators she’s accrued – Arca, MIKE, and The Avalanches, to name a few – Klein’s…

Klein used to work as a “logger” on a reality TV show, where she would record what cast members were doing in excruciating detail for use in B-roll shots. In an interview with Pitchfork, Klein noted how easily TV can be manipulated by people willing to distort the narrative, as when her fellow loggers would exclude activities by certain actors to make them look bad.
Klein is the complete opposite. She puts everything out as it comes, raw and unfiltered. It’s obsessive and mundane in a different way, suffused with meaning even at its most impenetrable. After two albums of searing guitar noise, sleep with a cane feels like a retreat into the shroud of her earlier work. She finds solace, and intrigue, in the billowing folds of ambient…