Mere of Light, “Heat of Ritual” (Lighten Up Sounds, 2026)
This is my first exposure to this solo project from New Orleans-based harpist/electronic producer Elise McArdle, but she self-released a couple of digital EPs before this physical debut on Minnesota’s Lighten Up Sounds. Notably, I have unwittingly become a bit of a serious harp fan in recent years thanks to Joanna Newsom, Mary Lattimore, and Alice Coltrane and I was consequently blindsided by McArdle’s endearingly unique take on the instrument, as she inventively blurs the lines between witchy and introverted bedroom art-pop, lo-fi electronic fun, and gorgeously sweeping and rippling psychedelia. In fact, Mere of Light improbably reminds me of Ren Schofield’s Container project: Schofield’s vision is a raw, explosive, stripped-down, spontaneous, analog, and noise-damaged reinvention of techno, while McArdle weaves real-time DIY/lo-fi magic with just her voice and an acoustic folk harp, an analog synthesizer, and a drum machine spread across the floor (coupled with a formidable talent for multi-track sampling, of course).
The opening “Secret Meadow” kicks off the album in languorously swaying and sensuous fashion, as McArdle’s hushed vocals describe a dreamworld of secret forests, rituals, and strange houses over a killer chiming arpeggio motif that sounds like a crystalline steel drum. In some ways, McArdle’s vision evokes an understated and somnambulant Joanna Newsom, as the vocals have an intimate, trance-like vibe and the dreamlike lyrics draw inspiration from a similar personal mythology filled with magic, nature, and childhood fantasies.
The big difference between the two artists, however, is that McArdle has considerably more psych-minded intentions, as her hooks and vocal melodies are frequently the portal into a slowly blossoming and beautifully hallucinatory crescendo that is often an even bigger payoff than the song itself. I mean that in an entirely complimentary way, as there are some great fucking hooks on this album—I just mean that the tenderly swirling and rippling psych passages happen to be even better still. Anyone can sing about a secret meadow, but few can vividly conjure one as beautifully as Mere of Light. Or as charmingly, as McArdle also filmed an accompanying puppet show with elaborate handmade shoebox sets.
My favorite piece is the closing outlier “Barbed Ephemera,” as its fun drum machine groove and bubbling synth hook feel like a killer minimal wave dance party that somehow gets even better once the chiming and pulsing harp loops kick in. “It Comes From Nowhere” is yet another wild and unexpected outlier, as it is essentially a heavy buzzing and flanging synth drone that collapses into a gnarled and churning cacophony of industrial noise. For the most part, however, McArdle’s songs tend to be more sublime and sensuous rather than drone-driven or (puppet) party rockin’. For example, “Centuries To Come” feels like a slice of bittersweet and intimate dreampop heaven built from bleary synths and a cool music box-like melodic hook, while the instrumental “Blue Mood Ice Cream” is another bit of sensuously swaying bit of art-pop magic, as an ascending major key synth hook and hiss-ravaged cymbals propel a summery fantasia of dancing harp melodies.
The remaining piece “Hearing Now” is probably the album’s most tenderly beautiful stretch, as a lovely plucked harp motif is doubled by a twinkling synth melody. Initially, it shares a lot of common ground with some of Mary Lattimore’s more beautiful and meditative work, but it gradually expands from there, as the introduction of sibilant tape hiss and warm flute-like tones lead into a stretch of murmured poetry about the vibrating frequency of death that unexpectedly ends with a cheery “that’s it!” That last bit beautifully illustrates why this album is such an absolute delight, as McArdle’s instrumental virtuosity and fascination with dark and mystical lyrical themes seamlessly coexist with strong pop instincts, a mischievous sense of fun, and an endearingly strong punk/DIY ethos.
That casual confidence and playful lack of self-seriousness are what make this release such of a one-of-a-kind delight for me, as McArdle clearly values soul, spontaneity, and underproduced realness over polish and perfectionism and she is more than happy to throw a wonky lo-fi disco beat curveball into a spacy synth workout or build a no-budget puppet fantasy land from a few shoeboxes and colored lights. I am also a big fan of McArdle’s real-time approach to recording, as it feels like an attempt to capture a living moment rather than an empty stunt or purist “no overdubs” boast. In short, Heat of Ritual rules and there is a very important lesson to be learned from it: nobody gives a fuck about imperfections and raw production if the hooks are great, the vibes are right, and the songs feel vibrantly alive. This is more than just an album—it is a sublime glimpse into a “romantic and fleeting” handcrafted fantasy world “edged with danger” and haunted by the spectre of death (and you can even dance to it with all your favorite puppets).
Listen here.
