No synths, no drums—no problem. This Berlin composer uses only her voice to conjure epic, harmony-rich songs.
Growing up in Pennsylvania, Pramuk spent her childhood in the church choir where her grandmother was a pianist. Deciding to pursue music professionally, she joined a conservatory and mastered singing in different ways and multiple languages. On the opening bars of "Witness," the religious influences are immediately evident: a reverberation that oscillates as if through a cavernous temple. Pramuk's ancient chant is accompanied by a humming, techno-infused ambience. It's in this border between a club setting and the divine that Fountain comes alive. Using her voice as a modular system, Pramuk suggests a ritual that's both folkloric and futuristic.
Onstage, Pramuk is a posthuman priestess. At last year's Unsound Festival in Krakow, she premiered songs from Fountain via a multi-channel system designed by the experimental producer Ben Frost. Dressed in a full-length scarlet dress, she moved between the mixer and microphone, performing graceful, hypnotic dance movements. Impossible to characterise as ambient, Fountain nonetheless provokes the trance-like state the genre can induce. At its centre stands the many Lyras: artist, storyteller, poet and cyborg.