Ultra Villain

Maara is a silly goose who knows how to switch it up. On her 2023 debut, the Montreal producer wiggled through new age, trip-hop, and ambient meditations delivered in an ASMR whisper. That record’s freakier end played with mystical progressive house reminiscent of Roza Terenzi and D. Tiffany’s work for their Planet Euphorique label—full of squelchy, minor-key melodies, lightly tapped bongos, and galloping basslines. Beyond her albums proper, she’s released a small collection of sapphic bangers with an artist named My Hot Ex, as well as last summer’s single “I Wanna Scissor,” which you can tell was recorded in between inebriated giggles. The tone of Maara’s discography is definitively crunchy, but it’s also more than a little naughty, carrying the conflicting aura of a pre-K teacher who’s crawling around the club.

Her second album, Ultra Villain, captures the sour taste of lost love with a pop tilt, injecting lesbian drama into the palo santo-scented world of The Ancient Truth. There’s pleasure-chasing trip-hop that would fit swimmingly in an opening scene of The L Word (“Burn Up”), a song about a lustful obsession you just can’t shake (“Dangerous Games”), and visions of betrayal (“Gloves Off”). Throughout the personal disarray, the production is even-keeled, paddling patiently through waves of ambient, dub techno, and progressive house that never truly crest. The album’s bookends display Maara’s aptitude for freckling a subtle groove with elysian details: “Glimmers of Hope” lassoes breakbeat around stately strings and lush ambient pads, inspiring the calm of a shavasana. If you thought you’d heard enough of the trip-hop revival, the pearly ambiance of “Come Home” will probably change your mind.

After perfecting the whispered talk-sing, Maara proves that she can hold a tune on Ultra Villain, revealing a nonchalant soubrette on “A Moving Blur” that might draw comparisons to Eartheater. She also dives more deeply into other styles. “Dirt” opens with a seductive reggaeton sway before Maara extends a flirtatious index finger to beckon a crush, muttering, “You’re fucking psycho and I love it.” “Kiss the Ring” sounds like a dispatch from the bold rhythmic world of Kindergarten records, using sliced-up moans as a percussive tool at the forefront of a tunneling club track. When Ultra Villain’s love story takes a turn for the worse, the production turns darker and delightfully amphibious. While Maara purrs, “Do you think I’m crazy?/For wanting you” on “The Chase,” you can imagine the song’s thick acid lines clattering like Carrie Bradshaw’s Jimmy Choo heels down a busy street.

This is music cut from the same cloth as Erika de Casier and Smerz, whose poppy electronica is undeniably cool without trying to be. Maara’s balance of high and low deftly avoids trip-hop’s reputation for chin-scratching seriousness: Ultra Villain’s instrumentals are studied and emotionally rich, while the lyrics highlight youthful, sex-crazed whimsy and longing. The title track was born out of the producer’s realization that “people can only meet you where they’ve met themselves”; the sound is shuffling downtempo, replete with the chopped orchestral vocals and record scratches of noughties trip-hop. There’s a crepuscular somberness, a feeling of looking back on the perfect day, knowing bliss won’t last forever. If Maara’s first album was a hypnotic escape from reality, the latest is an inner-body experience, amplifying sensuality while still reviving a dancefloor.