Sire
New Age, 1995

Sister Drum is one of the many treasures unearthed during my younger, wanderlust-driven years of flea-market rummaging. Back then, I was a humble collector of cassettes (yes, those little plastic things with ribbons of tape inside—ask your parents, kids) and proudly toting around my trusty Walkman like the retro hipster I didn’t know I’d become. So, dear readers, if you feel a wave of secondhand nostalgia creeping in, just know I fully accept how much I’m dating myself. Sheesh.

I had no clue who Dadawa was when I grabbed this cassette, but fast-forward to the Internet age, and I learned she is Zhu Zheqin, an indie world music artist who’s still active today. People have compared her to Enya, which is… interesting.

While Enya gently whispers you into a meditative coma, Dadawa’s Sister Drum feels more like a sonic rollercoaster. One moment, you’re floating on a calming, muted trance, and the next, the drums kick in, and you’re jolted into an elevated state of euphoria.

The title track, in particular, embodies this pattern—a pulse-raising, chant-laden affair that’s as invigorating as it is relaxing. It’s like Dadawa is saying, “You can chill, but don’t get too comfortable.”

Now, full disclosure: I don’t understand Mandarin, so I have no idea what Dadawa is singing about here. For all I know, she could be singing about grocery lists or quantum mechanics. But here’s the beauty of music—it transcends language barriers. And when I press play on this album, I’m not analyzing lyrics; I’m simply immersing myself in the meditative euphoria it so generously serves up.

Sure, you could argue that the music is repetitive. But isn’t that the point? This isn’t an album of pop hits; it’s a ticket to a mindfulness retreat. Take Sky Burial, for example—an 8-minute masterpiece of chanting and crescendo. It starts slow, lulls you into a contemplative space, then builds and builds until you’re soaring. It’s a moment so freeing; you half expect to sprout wings.

Of course, no discussion of Sister Drum is complete without acknowledging its controversy. Let’s be honest, China and Tibet have never exactly been besties, and critics have accused the album of cultural appropriation, calling out its commercialization of Tibetan spiritual elements. It’s a valid debate, and one worth having. On a personal level, though, I appreciate the unique style and the way it brought Chinese and Tibetan-inspired sounds to a global stage.

For me, Sister Drum is more than an album. It’s a balm for the soul. In these chaotic times, when anxiety seems like the default state of existence, I put this on, close my eyes, and find a brief, blessed respite from it all. And really, isn’t that what music is for?