Self-proclaimed “emotional juggler” Nia Archives sings melodies over some of the most relentless breakbeats you'll ever hear. It's the sound of 100 thoughts running through your head when you realize your situation lied to you. A few years ago, she was balancing school with a job at UK pub chain Wetherspoons, paying out of pocket for Instagram ads to promote her first song. Soon, he became a leader of a widespread jungle and drum'n'bass revival alongside artists such as dazegxd and SHERELLE. The scene has had a number of TikTok hits and sizeable EPs, but no defining project—until now.
Silence is powerful it inspires the jungle with the sparkling immediacy of pop ballads. It's emo and happy, a calendar that explodes into elegant yet sensitive anthems made for arena-sized catharsis. Nia is obsessed with the jungle, but is more interested in honoring its culture and history than emulating any of the myriad strains born in the golden age of the 90s. In an interview, she describes her broad interpretation of the genre as “modern punk music in a dance floor.” This loose understanding explains why her style has always been so malleable and unruly (for starters, on her latest EP, she revamped the genre with bossa nova and sped-up Brazilian body music).
She is eager to reshape a genre historically piloted by men, in which producers rarely address their personal lives. Nia sings fiercely about things like unfulfilled desire, spinning in psychotic melodies and shimmering trills. Percussion simultaneously buries and heightens her voice, giving her cover to unleash unsettling fears. On “FAMILY,” Nia talks about feeling alienated from her relatives, but the melting bass and chorus almost fool you into thinking it's positive power-bop. “Nightmares” features the vitriol of a novella-length hate text: Nia disses a fake man with such cute keys and sassy swagger that it'll make even the scumbags smile.
While the music aspires to feel both elegant and confessional, many songs offer only vague sketches of emotional conflict, trading concrete details for catchy rhymes. This works on “Cards on the Table,” where he somersaults over the guitar groove. But it can also feel too neat and radio-packaged. the smooth vocal cadence sometimes doesn't line up with the wild concerns he shares. Lacking distinctive ideas or anecdotal texture, her struggles can come across as trite at times—like who has not felt lonely in a crowded room?
But perhaps emotional specificity isn't the whole point. Instead, it's that combination of hard-partying honesty that makes her music so intense, like she's animatedly telling secrets to a friend while I'm freaking out. And unlike today's crazed internet jugglers, who dress up beats in delirious fuzzy and muddled digi-chaos, it closely approximates the pristine angularity of classic jungle percussion, with every drum hitting with satisfying clarity. He is the contemporary link between the genre's past and present, partnering with new generation producers and 90s pioneers. Goldie makes a brief appearance on the giddily lovelorn “Tell Me What It's Like?” to upload it.
