Skin, glass, or silk, Sevdaliza transforms the seemingly ordinary into anything but. “I always keep in mind that everything is perception,” she says. In Children of Silk, she sharpens her focus when looking at the tropes and modes of identity represented in her first EP, The Suspended Kid. The former project, more contained than the last, feels intentionally withdrawn. Posing questions to herself, she ruminates on the internal conflicts that thread her abstract aesthetic into something universally resonant.
“Why do we hide, hide, hide the inside?”
In “The Inside,” the EP’s first track, Sevdaliza asks without needing to know, her vocals slipping into a whirring composition that teeters between madness and constraint. It’s this broken space that defines the texture of Children of Silk, a mood that threads “The Inside” into “Men of Glass” and preserves the mask that Sevdaliza dares not crack. In “Marilyn Monroe,” Sevdaliza employs the iconic sex symbol in personifying what -- more than who -- stands behind the facade. “It’s true/in this life/I’ve never been the one in your eyes/ I’ve never been the truth/All you saw was a broken mirror,” she sings, her voice fading into something of a hopeless whisper. On the last track, “Men of Glass,” featuring Atlanta MC Rome Fortune, Sevdaliza unveils the last page of her chapter, less explicitly about herself than the others. Staring back at “a man without a cause,” she concludes that “some tales are meant to stay apart/Into a vague distance.”
Children of Silk makes what was once vague potent. With utter transparency, it digs more than it dwells, exploring the complexity of one fabric while knowing there are more to be felt. Throughout the lifespan of her artistic career thus far, Sevdaliza has managed to touch upon what that means.
From her music video catalog to her sound to lyrics rooted in candor and contemplation, she walks through facets of the human experience often left untouched. “It just interests me how people pursue themselves,” she says. “If you really strip down all the shit around you, then there’s just you.” No matter the masks put on or roles played, Sevdaliza makes it clear that her material is just that: a product of herself, uncovering the layers of her own skin.