#KoraliReview: Udhaasthah by Adhineynge - a wilfully crazy LP by Maldives music’s most DIY figure

Credit: Dethpuhu

The underground phenomenon Adhineynge has released a new album 'Udhaasthah' on Soundcloud in the past week and hardly anyone has heard it. They were an experimental duo that released the killer track 'Huvafen' on their debut Dhuniye EP two years back, which turned the heads of the musically inclined in our city. With the departure of song writing partner Miju, Adhineynge is now Deth's solo project. And on this album, he expands the scope of Adhineynge’s sound. It's an LP that is both a breakup album and one that reveals and revels in the almost nihilistic freedom of the aftermath. Despite Deth's tendency to pare everything down to its essence, Udhaasthah is sonically a level up from his debut EP. Gone are the default-setting drums for example. Here, they are replaced in the first (mostly electronic) half by steady danceable beats filtered for effect.

The opener ‘Keeh hey mi kuranee’ describes a man wondering if he should leave (a place, a marriage) and questioning his actions. Further down the line, he contemplates death. Deth’s delivery on this track is like a persistent thought you can’t silence, suffusing you with despair. It's sung over a bare acoustic guitar, a nod at Kushehnooney's Ziyaa Abbas, who passed away in 2022, and remains a source of constant inspiration for young Deth.

Although Ziyaa was a more advanced musician and singer, he and Deth would have hit it off: they are both adept explorers of their interiority, diving deep and bringing up the pearls, not of wisdom perhaps but unvarnished lived experience. They prefer simple emotional hooks over purely literary flourishes. They have something to say and they say it like it is. Ziya's acoustic interludes on 'Lah' are refined versions of Deth's own acoustic album intro. But they function in the same way, spare, vulnerable, and flickering with feeling.

Deth besides his mural for Ziyaa Abbas near Jamaaluddeen School. Photo credit: dyslexicalien

Deth's glitches on 'Gehlifa' recall Daft Punk, it's a fast number with lo-fi recording predilections which work very well. Even the low pass filters are applied without a master's flair or technique. Be that as it may, by the time l0kioh's delayed and whispery vocals come on, the track has taken a misty, ambient turn, only to change swiftly into a turbocharged beast. It's a structural maze, Deth is a rat navigating it, like a small metaphor for so much out there.

Despite the almost abrasive unconventionality of Deth's music, there is a tenderness in some of the songs: notice how lovingly he recorded the waves at Raalhugandu before sampling it over his repetitive synth loop in 'Varunulaa Raalhugandu', the third track. It takes a little bit of dedication, plus a desire to be authentic, to pull off something like this. And the pops of melody scattered through Varunulaa is enough to keep you in its embrace with its earwormy swarm of happy notes.

There's some tongue in cheek political commentary on 'Jabir Theme Song' that alternatively shows the former parliamentarian saying 'some ol’ bullshit' and then quoting from the Scripture. This is the kind of juxtaposition my learned friend learnt in his first year as a student of architecture in the United States. That a concept as lofty as this has been brought to the tiny bedrooms of Male is remarkable in itself, he might think. The track settles into a sitar riff, but in the mix there's another angry, snarling synth lending the track a sense of chaos. It is one of the most striking pieces Adhineynge has ever produced.

an artist's view of the world. Credit: Dethpuhu

This chaos is natural, the artist had a turbulent year that meant significant changes to his life. Music is a cope, it may be argued. But a good one. Deth was not born to be a civil servant, despite his degree in business administration and his stint at the President’s Office. He can't be contained, there's a force that resists attempts to influence, control, and contain, a built in resistance (or you might say recalcitrance) that borders on the perverse. Like something that has renounced the world of appearances for a life of what they sense is truth.

'Fuck This Life', the album's pivotal moment, is sung with feeling, out of beat, off pitch, these being mere conventions for Deth that he can ignore at will. This doesn’t stop the sheer hopelessness in Deth's voice cutting through everything else to command attention. But the song's second act is upbeat 90s synth pop over an insistent beat, 'Beynunhaa Gothakah Ulheynee, Beynunhaa Kameh Kuraanee,' he repeats like a mantra. Is Deth living the way he wants, on his terms? A man can be forgiven for thinking so.

The next half opens with a surprise. GarageBand electronica gives way to distorted guitar played by Deth. Akku plays bass, lambaadaa is on keys, her presence and contribution rather like a contemporary Yoko Ono’s (lambaadaa would of course be flattered), and on acoustic drums, the aspiring drummer Ishan. The song is spirited, punky, technically base, showcasing its bare bones. And Deth has edited the tracks so that involuntary breaks and conversations are part of it, reminding one of the Harvey Pekar ‘biopic’ American Splendor. And like Pekar’s comic, Udhaasthah too has a powerful emotional centre. One created by Deth’s unflinching expression of the source material for his art: his life.

'Marlboro Jam' is minimal and catchy, led by Ishan's insistent 4/4 groove that recalls Blur's 'Song 2’. It’s Deth riffing off two notes, chanting Marlboro, Marlboro. Deth is not a man of refinement, there's an improvisational rawness about everything he does. His music is like his TikToks is like his art is like his poetry is like his life. And very often it all happens quickly as though it must happen quickly or risk losing its animating spirit.

Adhineynge's work feels urgent and has already been given nods of approval by the ageing elder statesmen of our scene (ie Ishaantay). There's a real sense of Deth's personality and his view of art contained within these twelve tracks. He is comparable perhaps to Ariel Pink, the American’s eccentricity and confidence without his compulsion to make everything nostalgic and poppy. But like Pink, Deth's best songs are simple and infectious, even arguably the darkest fare. The nature of the album's piecemeal release on Soundcloud is very on brand for the artist, too. The tracks feature individual artwork, it's not like Deth is avoidant when it comes to finer details. In any case, ‘Udhaasthah’ lays down an important chapter in the legend of Deth, showing us a man using music to mythologise himself with abandon. It deserves more listeners.