In biology, the epiblast is a precarious but infinitely powerful thing. It is the primordial embryonic layer from which an entire organism ultimately develops, a microscopic cluster of cells holding both profound fragility and limitless, expansive potential. It is a fitting, almost devastatingly accurate title for the new album from Naná Rizinni, an artist who has spent the last few years tearing down her own life and rebuilding it from the cellular level up.
Slated to release via Bridge The Gap, Epiblast is the sound of geographical displacement, overwhelming grief, and profound creation happening all at once. Born and raised in São Paulo, where she became a fiercely sought-after drummer and producer playing alongside artists like Tiê, Johnny Hooker, and Ana Cañas, Rizinni relocated to London in 2020. The move across the Atlantic coincided with a collision of massive life events: the terrifying joy of new parenthood, the disorientation of rooting a life in a new hemisphere, and the crushing, lingering grief following the loss of her brother.
The resulting record, written and co-produced over two years with London-based saxophonist Mark Cake, is not merely a collection of songs. It is a real-time processing of survival.
Rizinni has always operated at the fringes of the Brazilian alternative underground, but here she steps fully into a hybrid, jazz language. If her earlier work leaned into alternative and post-rock textures, Epiblast situates itself somewhere between the cosmic, synth-heavy attack of The Comet Is Coming, the future-jazz agility of corto.alto, and the rhythmic calculus of contemporary producer-drummers like Mark Guiliana and Richard Spaven. Aided by the enveloping modular synth work of Harry Jones (Lazy H), Rizinni anchors the electronic chaos with her deep, instinctual understanding of Brazilian rhythm.
The album opens with its title track, an extensive piece that perfectly articulates the tension of the record. ‘Epiblast’ begins with a chopped, nervous sequence of saxophones before gradually stacking itself into a towering, cinematic build. Flutes flutter against melodic bass lines, while Rizinni’s drums shift from supportive scaffolding to the driving force of the track. It is a dense, physical performance that refuses to let the listener settle, mimicking the erratic heartbeat of a life in transition.
From there, the record breathes slightly on ‘Faísca’. Dropping the BPM, Rizinni sinks into a thick, low-end groove that feels heavily indebted to classic spiritual jazz while retaining a distinctly modern edge. It’s an exercise in restraint, proving that her production is as smooth and deliberate as her drumming is explosive. This restraint carries over into ‘VVV Rerework’, a track that offers a moment of consolidatory intimacy. Calm, slow, and undeniably groovy, it evokes the dimly lit warmth of a late-night lounge, a fleeting pocket of sanctuary amidst the album’s emotional turbulence.
But Rizinni is not content to stay in the quiet for long. On the lead single ‘The Right Side of the Escalator’ (a nod, perhaps, to the unspoken rules of London’s Underground) and the Steve Reich-esque ‘Fifth Life’, the energy shifts back into high gear. Driven by crisp, authoritative snares and bouncy synth sequencing, these tracks showcase the symbiotic interplay between Rizinni and Cake. They are tightly wound, progressive fusion pieces that demand physical movement, moving effortlessly between wide-open soundscapes and tensing rhythmic interplay.
Midway through, ‘Under the Quiet’ shatters the organic atmosphere with glitching, aggressively chopped vocals. It rises alongside a wave of instrumentation, creating a uniquely futuristic soundscape that feels both anxious and deeply cathartic. It is here that the grief of the record feels most palpable, not in somber balladry, but in a chaotic, energetic refusal to sit still.
As the album begins its descent, Rizinni allows the dust to settle. ‘Familiar Stranger’ and ‘In the Shell’ strip away the dense layering, relying instead on subtle, hypnotic melodies. They are reflective, nocturnal tracks that feel like the aftermath of a storm, a quiet acknowledgment of the changed landscape. Finally, ‘Epiblast (Outerlude)’ serves as an exciting, rhythmic outro, tying the sprawling ideas of the record into a neat, driving finish.
Epiblast is an album of immense emotional and structural weight. By connecting her spontaneous Brazilian roots with London’s progressive electronic jazz scene, Naná Rizinni has not just documented her transformation; she scored it. It is a raw, unfiltered account of what it means to lose a piece of your world and forge a new one in its place. For all its complex time signatures and modular synth patches, its greatest achievement is how undeniably, bracingly human it feels.
