Charlotte Jacobs’ debut LP, "a t l a s", feels like stepping into an experimental odyssey where avant-pop, mythology, and bilingual musings collide. This is a carefully woven tapestry of sounds, words, and emotions that dares to ask big questions while whispering them softly in your ear.

From the opening strains of "Celeste", Jacobs establishes her dual role as both guide and mythmaker. Ethereal strings and whispered vocals pull you into a dreamscape where she beckons, “Wake up and scream at the top of the mountains”. It’s a bold opening for an album that balances celestial wonderment with earthy introspection.

The second track, "CYTMH", spirals into Twin Peaks territory, its eerie backward phonetics and lo-fi drum beats conjuring the surreal red-room energy of Lynch’s best. Yet Jacobs’ delivery anchors it, her voice an intimate thread weaving through the uncanny textures.
Midway through, "Xylem" takes root - a floaty flute voyage inspired by the biological process of photosynthesis. Here, Charlotte Greve’s live flutes tangle with MIDI-driven counterparts, creating a paradoxical soundscape: organic yet electronic, ancient yet new.

And then there’s "p a n", a Dutch-language exploration of childhood anxiety set to an ominous backdrop of synthetic sequences and harp flourishes. It’s deeply personal yet universal, a reminder of how language shapes, but doesn’t always limit, our understanding of emotion.
Jacobs’ influences - ranging from Anne Teresa De Keersmaeker’s choreography to literary mythmaking - are evident throughout "a t l a s". Her storytelling bends and shifts like the landscapes of her Belgian upbringing, where her family’s gallery and the countryside converged to nurture a love for art and experimentation. This album, like her 2021 EP "The Shape of Wandering", is driven by language’s ability to ground abstract musical ideas. Dutch and English intertwine with spoken word, forming a rhythmic counterpoint to the vibrant instrumentation.

The closing track, "mala", pulses with Raf Vertessen’s life-affirming drums, a heartbeat for an album that feels as alive as its creator’s curiosity. Jacobs sings, “I jump, thoughts of water under my toes”, a moment of vulnerability that underscores the album’s broader themes of exploration and self-reliance.

"a t l a s" is not without its playful moments - Jacobs has a knack for juxtaposing scuzzy lo-fi and glossy hi-fi textures, ensuring her tracks always teeter on the edge of experimentation without losing their emotional core. But beneath the sonic innovation is a feminist query: where are the women’s stories in the myths we tell? Jacobs doesn’t offer answers so much as alternatives, crafting her own female-centered narratives through her music.

This record is a triumph of nuance - delicate yet daring, intricate but inviting. "a t l a s" is a world to explore, a language to decipher, and a myth to believe in. With her debut, Charlotte Jacobs has set her own shoulders beneath the heavens, proving she too can carry the weight of a story worth telling.