Nilufer Yanya - Painless (LP)

Nilüfer Yanya’s second album lands with that rare mix of confidence and curiosity that keeps you leaning in. Since its March 2022 release, Painless has quietly become one of those records I recommend to anyone who loves guitars that glint rather than blare, rhythms that light a fuse, and a voice that carries a cool, lived-in ache. It is a London record at heart, paced like late night streets and bus rides, but it never feels hemmed in by scene or trend.

Yanya made Painless with longtime collaborator Wilma Archer, writing through lockdown and stripping the songs down to the bones. You can hear it in the space around the drums, in the friction of those wiry guitar lines, in how the bass sneaks up under the vocal rather than muscling it aside. There is restraint, then a small detonation, then air again. She has always had a knack for the pause that says more than a scream, and here it becomes a language.

“Stabilise” still hits like a sprint through back alleys, with clipped guitar chatter, a drum pattern that feels like a heartbeat in chase mode, and lyrics that scan the city for danger and relief. On “Midnight Sun” she leans into something darker and more rapturous, an alt rock pulse that nods to the kind of towering guitars you might associate with The Cure, yet it stays unmistakably hers. The hook opens like a window at 3am, cool air rushing in. “The Dealer” slides and shuffles, a little sly, a little haunted, the melody curling around the refrain until it’s lodged in your head on the walk home. Closer “Anotherlife” feels like a morning-after reckoning, the production rinsed clean so her voice can carry the weight of the question in the title.

What makes Painless linger is how it circles pain without turning it into spectacle. Yanya has spoken about cycles, about numbness, about learning to sit with the sting, and the record reflects that honestly. The writing is economical, no bloated metaphor, just sharp images and a knack for phrasing that lets unease coexist with desire. Even when the songs get big, they still move like a whisper in your ear.

The production choices reward close listening. Guitars are stacked in thin, tensile layers rather than thick slabs, so every pick scrape counts. Percussion flickers between live kit heft and machine snap, which keeps the tension alive. There is a lot of subtle movement in the stereo field, small echoes and ghost harmonies that seem to appear only on the third or fourth play. It is the kind of detail that makes you reach for the volume and then reach for the sleeve to see who did what, an old habit that Painless happily reignites.

Critics heard it too. The album earned Best New Music from Pitchfork and drew strong reviews from NME and The Guardian, which makes sense because it feels built to last. There is no single moment that tries to eat the whole room. Instead the cumulative pull turns it into a companion piece for messy seasons and small wins.

On wax, the record blooms. Those negative spaces become part of the rhythm, the low end sits warmer, and the guitars stretch out across the room. If you are crate digging in a Melbourne record store and spot Painless vinyl in the new arrivals, it is an easy hand-to-sleeve move. The packaging suits the music’s cool glow, and the sequencing flows so well that flipping the side feels like stepping through a doorway rather than breaking the spell. If you prefer to buy Nilüfer Yanya records online, there are usually copies floating around, and you will thank yourself the next time you need a late night album that knows when to hold back and when to hit.

For anyone hunting Nilüfer Yanya vinyl in general, her catalogue makes a convincing case for living with these songs in the room, not just in your headphones. Painless might be the finest entry point, a record that shows her range without grandstanding. As searches for Nilüfer Yanya albums on vinyl keep rising, it is no surprise that this title is the one you see tucked under arms after in-store plays. If you’re in Australia and flicking through lists of vinyl records Australia wide, put this high in the queue. It is sleek, human, and quietly bruised, and it gets better the more you sit with it.