Cruel Diagonals - Fractured Whole (2023)

Los Angeles musician Megan Mitchell returns with a new Cruel Diagonals album that resonates with maximum emotional impact. Constructed entirely with sounds generated by her own voice – chopped up, warped, rendered unrecognizable, ringing out in hymn-like incantations – Fractured Whole is a powerful and timeless exploration of vulnerability, resistance, and the freedom to be yourself.

"Megan Mitchell drops you straight into the chasm... beguiling" – NPR

"...an immersive, even holy experience" – A Closer Listen

"Ambient music that's both expressive and empathetic" – Pitchfork

Excerpted from the liner notes by Robert Ham:

Megan Mitchell opens her latest album Fractured Whole in much the same way she did with her previous full-length 2021’s A Dormant Vigor, with the sound of her voice intoning a series of notes.

But listening to them side-by-side, the differences between the two are stark. Not simply in the notes that Mitchell chooses to sing but in the emotion and depth and power behind that crystal-clear mezzo-soprano. On “Penance,” the first track on Fractured Whole, she bears the weight of hundreds of years of music written for singers and her own complex history with ease, evoking everything from the sacred music of Hildegard von Bingen to the satanic masses of Diamanda Galas with each intertwining melody.

Mitchell’s singing has been an integral part of her work as Cruel Diagonals from the start, but it has never felt so present as it does on Fractured Whole. That’s simply because every piece of sound featured on this album was created using her voice. It may be stretched and twisted into unusual shapes, chopped up and shattered, or rendered unrecognizable by technology but it is still there, pulling at the corners of the conscious mind and conveying deeply felt emotions.

This decision to use her voice as the only instrument was, according to Mitchell, a necessary step to move forward as an artist and composer — a challenge that brought with it growth and confidence. “It forced me to become a better producer,” she says. “When you give yourself that type of restriction, you have to come up with all these different ways to make it interesting. I didn’t want this to be an a cappella album. I wanted people to listen to it and forget that this is all voice. Then they remember again, then forget again.”

What also can’t be ignored is the pure emotional impact of the album. Pay close attention to its title and the names of the tracks. Over the course of the 18 months it took Mitchell to compose and record Fractured Whole, she was working through a lot of emotional and psychological fragments, seeking better understanding of her life and her art. Though she had been receiving nothing but praise for her releases and live gigs, the accolades never sunk in. It was a disconnect steeped in trauma from her past and gendered socialization.

“How do I reconcile these fragmented parts of myself and prove that I’m worthy and I’m deserving and that I’m whole at the end of the day?” Mitchell asks. “That became the jumping off point for what I was doing with my voice. I wanted it to be really intense and harsh at times, but also be this big, expansive, beautiful work.”

Embracing that duality on Fractured Whole allowed Mitchell to produce art that feels unmistakably human and thrillingly alien — an uncanny valley that she invites the listener to explore with her.