REVIEW: Ariyel’s New Single “sister sister” Reimagines Sisterhood
REVIEW
REVIEW
☆ BY DANIELLE HOLIAN ☆
Alt-pop artist Ariyel offers a reverent reimagining of betrayal and sisterhood in her haunting new single “sister sister.” Featuring Emily Sangder and produced by August Mez with vocal production by Joshua Evan Lee, the track is a slow-burning, dreamlike immersion into the uncharted terrain of emotional intimacy between women who have experienced shared pain.
The song opens in quiet simplicity, a single, contemplative guitar, its clean tones stretched like nerves, setting a mood that feels both fragile and intimate. From this stillness emerges Ariyel’s voice: threadbare velvet, bruised but unbroken, restrained yet luminous. She doesn’t need to raise her voice to command attention; she simply tells the truth, and in doing so, holds you completely. Ambient textures drift through like gauze, with subtle mellotron flickers evoking the warmth of old film. Nothing feels forced or crowded; the space between notes speaks as profoundly as the notes themselves. What unfolds is less a structure than an atmosphere: a slow-dawning, dream-folk alchemy that soothes even as it stings.
This is where Emily Sangder’s voice becomes essential. Her harmonies are not just supportive, they’re conversational. She doesn’t sing with Ariyel so much as to her, like a sister replying from the other side of a shared dream. Their vocals interlace like threads in the same fabric, distinct yet inseparable. Sangder’s voice feels like a hand reaching out in the dark, steady and sure. The effect is nothing short of magical. With hushed harmonies and poetic precision, Ariyel transforms shared trauma into a shimmering song of recognition and release.
The lyrics, while minimal, are piercing. Ariyel doesn’t overcrowd the song with metaphors or melodrama. Instead, she distills a complex emotional landscape into a few resonant lines. The words are clear, but their implications are vast. It’s a song that respects your intelligence and your pain. It asks you to listen not just with your ears, but with your heart.
What makes “sister sister” so compelling is how effortlessly it merges the personal with the universal. While it emerges from a deeply specific emotional context, the experience of CPTSD, and particularly the unique relationships formed between women through shared trauma, it never feels alienating. Instead, it opens a door. Whether or not you’ve walked the exact path Ariyel describes, you recognize the longing, the ache, the quiet hope. It’s all there, between the chords and harmonies.
At just under four minutes, “sister sister” leaves a lasting impression far beyond its runtime. It lingers like a memory, not necessarily of something that happened, but something that could have. It’s a reminder that softness is not weakness, and that empathy can be revolutionary. In Ariyel’s hands, music becomes a mirror, not to reflect who we pretend to be, but who we really are when we let the walls fall away.
By the time the final notes drift into silence, you realize you haven’t just heard a song, you’ve witnessed something. Two women, two voices, once separated by pain, now holding hands across the divide.
As part of Ariyel’s larger concept album, it hints at an artist deeply in tune with her emotional landscape and unafraid to translate that into sound. The upcoming album promises to be a necessary, unflinching exploration of the many textures of trauma and recovery, and if “sister sister” is any indication, it will do so with exquisite care.
In “sister sister,” Ariyel has built that place. And if you let it, it might just hold you, too.
