The mental landscape of one Suryakant Sawhney is populated by objects in the mirror that are closer then they appear. As Lifafa – Urdu for “envelope” – he narrates this landscape through the variety of tools that someone of his creative pedigree has at their disposal. Luckily for us however, he has chosen to paint these pictures musically, pushing the namesake of his adopted alterego.
In a post-Dilla world, we have grown accustomed to off-timings that somehow work. Under the (literal) cloak of Lifafa, Suryakant takes it further, creating sounds that drop off imaginary cliffs, disappear as if being sucked through an antigravity portal, and ooze with the viscosity of day old tamarind paste. This is the kind of music that one would likely hear if there was a disco located underneath a circus ground located somewhere between a sleepwalking summer stumble through Delhi and a film set sexually deviant sorceresses exorcising the malaise that most electronic music seems to be mired in. He also wears a sequinned kurta pyjama.