Gia Margaret tests her range on Singing

Gia Margaret, however, really had no say over the circumstances that led to her breakthrough. The Chicago native started fast as a slowcore singer-songwriter who blew away South By Southwest. Then, somewhere around 2019, after coming down with laryngitis, she lost her voice. While the injury lingered, she went viral by turning herself into, of all things, an ambient artist. Now, at 38 years old, Margaret can finally sing again. Her new album occasionally falls flat, but Singing still hits plenty of high notes.

Margaret was never the type of singer to show off. On her first full-length, she sang softly and discreetly, coaxing meaning from each syllable. Her approach to Singing hasn't changed. What's different is she must figure out how her voice fits with the one she's discovered as a producer. Right away, the album finds the right balance with an early contender for song of the year. "Everyone Around Me Is Dancing" fills the negative space of IDM with tasteful accents of sophisti-pop. Rich piano and elegant synth float in and out like overheard conversations, leaving her inner monologue to command the floor: "Everything unsaid, it sinks in / for a little too long". A trumpet musters a laugh in agreement that loneliness has nothing to do with how many people are in the room.

Singing shines brightest when Margaret's voices are in harmony. A fragile note of resolution echoes behind the harp that's draped over "Alive Inside", reminding her of what was always there even when she couldn't reach it. "I can't remember when I felt the thing alive inside / And all the songs I could have sung". Every song contains at least one such miraculous moment. Impossibly, her bemusement toward "Good Friend" doesn't come off as the slightest bit pretentious. Tablas, turntable scratches and Gregorian chanting compliment each other with the grace of The Avalanches. But the album fades into the background when her singing or production settles for too long. "Rotten" feels like its emotional centerpiece but is content on recycling hum-drum vocal patterns and musty arrangements. The song's outro is more memorable with its curious sample of a CD on how to speak Italian that Margaret received years ago from her dad.

While a welcome return, Singing isn't an act of reclamation but self-discovery. Reconnecting with herself as a singer brought Margaret back to the sights and sounds of her youth. Twinkling assurance from Amy Millan and the lionly baritone of David Bazan accompany her down memory lane on "Cellular Reverse". There are plenty more guests. Kurt Vile expresses what can only be said through the ragged glory of a guitar solo. But Margaret isn't lost among the crowd. Even though the album drags toward the end, its emotional epiphany is worth the wait: "Will you sing me anything? / Anything you want!". Margaret has gone too long without singing with so little restraint, like she's ready to slip free of her vocoder and back into her oldest source of comfort: herself.