Culture Cabinet

A bovine excision is a strange phenomenon. Filed among other mysteries with unexplained origins (i.e. fairy lights, dark matter), this disturbing occurrence refers to a specific type of cattle mutilation in which the animal is found hollowed out, organs gone, and bloodlessly so. (Best not to dig too deeply into it unless you want to end up crying over poor dead horses.) As grim as it sounds, it makes for a compelling metaphor. One that Samia draws on in her new album, Bloodless (out this Friday), where it also serves as the inspiration for the album and opening track’s titles. 

Bloodless marks Samia’s third full-length album, following The Baby (2020) and Honey (2023). If her earlier work felt like a coming-of-age exploration, Bloodless is the moodier, more introspective older sister: wiser, wearier, and more spiritually curious. Here, Samia confronts life’s unknowable aspects: femininity, self-image, spiritual liminality. The idea of being “bloodlessly” hollowed out – stripped of essence without visible trauma – threads throughout the album as a metaphor for emotional alienation and personal disintegration.

Though it carries heavy themes, the album doesn’t buckle under their weight. Samia weaves them into a dreamy, sometimes disorienting sonic haze. While the flow occasionally veers into chaos, it’s a calculated messiness, held together by richer production and haunting textures that feel more elevated than in her past work. Tracks glide through moods rather than adhere to strict structure. 

While there are no weak links in the track list, there are obvious stand outs. “Hole In A Frame” slows the tempo into a meditative ballad, a reflection on unlearning arbitrary self-expectations. (The title nods to Sid Vicious punching a hole in a Tulsa venue wall in 1978). “Lizard” stands out for its emotional rawness. With heavy synths and sharp drum beats, it explores the ache of being perceived, of existing as a real person after living comfortably as a memory or myth. “It’s painful to stay present,” Samia admits in a press release, “and even more painful to try not to ruin a party I’d already ruined.” Other standouts include “Spine Oil,” an abstract spiritual meditation, and “Sacred,” which chronicles the disintegration of a relationship with poetic brutality: You never loved me like you hate me now, she repeats throughout the song. 

A core strength of Bloodless lies in its luminous lyrics, co-written by Samia and a powerhouse lineup of collaborators including Jake Luppen (Hippo Campus), Christian Lee Hutson, Raffaella Meloni, Caleb Wright (The Happy Children), Nathan Stocker, and Quinn McGovern. The writing is emotionally rich, but never overwrought. There’s a quiet wisdom here, one that feels earned, not performed. Coupled with darker, more atmospheric instrumentation and Samia’s undeniably captivating vocals, Bloodless delivers a kind of quiet devastation that lingers long after the final track fades.

While her previous two albums were undeniably great, and the dedicated following they earned Samia are only a testament of such, Bloodless is her most cohesive and ambitious work to date. The album dances on the edge of existential dread without falling in. It’s moody but not self-indulgent, chaotic but still composed. Even though there’s never a perfect moment of closure (Now I’m questioning everything I am, she confesses on “Pants,” the final track), the journey feels complete. Or at least, satisfyingly incomplete, as life’s most pivotal moments of self discovery often are. 

Like the metaphor that anchors it, Bloodless is strange, haunting, and inexplicably beautiful. Though it may be called Bloodless, it’s full of life.