Kat Duma – Lullaby

Picture that strange space between dreaming and sleeping – the slow, liminal in-between where reality starts to lose its shape.

Kat Duma’s second album, Lullaby, lives in exactly that space. Weaving ethereal pop with experimental, dub-leaning rhythms, it creates a cinematic world that feels both intimate and disorienting.

Produced alongside Alex Tanas and mixed by Graham Walsh, the record balances comfort and unease side by side. Vocals often blur into the production, making meaning feel impressionistic rather than literal.

The opening track, Mirrored Water, immediately taps into this. It feels like walking down a seemingly endless corridor – as the song picks up pace and tension, there’s a sense of running toward or away from something unseen. Duma’s signature layering of echoes and electronic textures creates a pulsating heartbeat-like sound that drives the track forward, but it finishes with a quiet piano motif that leaves the listener in a state of eerie calm, wondering what lies beneath the surface.

This sense of weightless transition continues into White Light, where soft, distant piano notes and glittering, harp-like flourishes create an angelic atmosphere. However, the record takes a turn into darker territory with its title track. Here, a ticking clock and descending chords build a slow-burning restlessness, making the hushed vocals feel particularly vulnerable against the growing sense of heaviness.

Duma’s exploration of the subconscious peaks in Cruising and the medieval-tinged Evo ti srce na dlanu (translating to “here is my heart on a palm”). The former uses “drip-drop” sonics and underwater vocal layering to evoke the isolation of being in the middle of the ocean at night. The latter, sung in her native language, introduces traditional-sounding melodies – reminiscent of a flute or accordion – into a hazy electronic landscape, further grounding the record in her unique Serbian-Canadian heritage.

By the time we reach Chained (to you), the disorientation softens into a kind of revelation. Duma’s vocals feel clearer, as if drifting through clouds as she muses, “Maybe I’m chained to my nature.” A distant, echoing scream at the end raises questions about whether this is a moment of total freedom or a final loss of control. It’s a strong finish, and one that highlights how far her craft has come. If her debut was about finding her voice, Lullaby is where she steps fully into control as a producer, turning her experimental ideas into something immersive and complete.