OMOW by Lucia Capellaro is the kind of album that reminds me why I keep listening to music and writing about it. I’ve written hundreds of reviews for hundreds of albums, and it has become increasingly difficult to surprise me, but I must confess that OMOW had me hooked from track to track. I never knew what was coming next. It is not simply that the melodies or compositional approaches change from one piece to another; it is that each track seems to emerge from a different musical universe. If you had a playlist containing this variety of genres, you would be considered someone with an exceptionally broad taste in music. Yet Lucia Capellaro has brought all these worlds together within a single album, and the result is genuinely remarkable.
The story behind OMOW, short for One Mic One World, makes this diversity even more meaningful. Capellaro began recording the album in 2021, at the height of the global pandemic, when physical distance had become a defining feature of human relationships. Rather than allowing isolation to limit her creativity, she used it as an opportunity to reconnect with musicians who had influenced her artistic development at different stages of her life. Working with recordings captured by her collaborators on the same travelling microphone, she built a collection of pieces around their individual musical identities, contributing her own playing on cello, baroque cello, bass guitar, viola da gamba and electronics. What emerges is not merely a collection of stylistically diverse compositions, but a musical record of human connection across geographical distances.
Eleven Tracks, Eleven Musical Universes
“Love in the Fraction” opens the album with an extraordinary cello solo, immediately establishing a contemporary classical atmosphere with an Eastern sensibility. Featuring Tao, the piece makes expressive use of the cello’s warm, lyrical voice without slipping into sentimentalism. The second cello initially functions almost like a percussion instrument, adding rhythmic tension beneath the main melodic line. As the piece progresses, a complex, fast-moving arpeggio emerges, creating a striking contrast with the lyrical drive of the leading cello. The tension builds towards a dramatic climax before the music comes to an abrupt halt. It is a confident opening that introduces both Capellaro’s instrumental sensitivity and her willingness to challenge expectations.
“What you wanna do?” takes us somewhere entirely different. Featuring DJ Yoda, Edo. G and James Davison, the second track leaves the contemporary classical world behind and steps directly into hip-hop. The contrast is almost disorienting, but in the best possible way. Suddenly, the album reveals another side of Capellaro’s musical identity, demonstrating that her interests extend far beyond the traditions associated with her principal instrument. Rather than feeling like an interruption, the change establishes one of the album’s central principles: music can be a meeting place for artists whose creative languages are fundamentally different.
And just when we might begin to think we have discovered the album’s direction, “Patchwork – Keno Koruno Sure” changes everything again. Featuring Debipriya Das and Debasish Mukherjee, this piece draws deeply on Indian musical traditions, with intricate rhythmic patterns, sitar and vocals creating a world far removed from the previous track. It feels less like a fusion experiment than an encounter with a musical tradition in its own right. The piece does not simply borrow a few elements from Indian music to decorate a Western composition; it allows its own musical identity to take centre stage.
“Jacob Fetch the Children,” featuring Roisin McCarthy Green and Alim, introduces a ballad-like atmosphere built around a vocal duet. Following the rhythmic intricacies of the preceding track, the song offers a different kind of intimacy, bringing the human voice to the forefront. Its presence reinforces the impression that each collaborator has been given space to inhabit their own musical world rather than being required to conform to a single overarching style.
“Can Duh Dilish,” featuring Holly Harman, takes another unexpected turn. With its instrumental character and minstrel-like melody, the piece evokes the atmosphere of Renaissance music. There is something almost timeless about its musical language, as though we have stepped into a different historical period. Yet it does not feel like an exercise in historical imitation. Instead, it forms another distinct chapter in an album that refuses to be confined by genre or era.
“I Never Told Anybody,” featuring Roisin McCarthy Green, moves us into softer electronic territory. Built around vocals and synthesised textures, it has the character of a pop-oriented electronic piece, offering yet another contrast with the acoustic and historically inspired sounds heard earlier. The track’s place in the album is particularly interesting because it demonstrates how easily Capellaro moves between instrumental traditions and contemporary production without treating either as an exception to her musical identity.
The longest piece, “Raag Bihag: Alap and Bandish in Taal Rupak,” featuring Debasish Mukherjee, stretches across more than thirteen minutes. Strongly rooted in Indian classical music, it also incorporates cello into its soundworld, creating a fascinating meeting between instrumental traditions. The piece begins slowly and atmospherically, allowing the music to breathe and unfold without rushing towards a destination. The Indian rhythmic framework does not fully establish itself until well into the piece, after which the music begins to reveal another dimension of its character. This gradual development rewards patient listening. Rather than offering an immediate hook, it invites us to inhabit its atmosphere and experience the music as a process.
“Mad Fox,” featuring Rachael Cohen and Sam Watts, introduces contemporary jazz, with saxophone and piano at the heart of the arrangement. It is an instrumental marvel, demonstrating a different kind of virtuosity from the classical and Indian-influenced pieces. Here, the music’s identity emerges through its instrumental interplay, rhythmic character and the distinctive personalities of the musicians. After the spaciousness of “Raag Bihag,” the change in energy is striking, yet it feels entirely natural within the album’s broader framework.
“BT,” also featuring Sam Watts and Rachael Cohen, continues this instrumental collaboration, bringing together piano, cello and saxophone. The combination is particularly compelling because these instruments carry such different expressive associations. The cello can suggest intimacy and sustained lyricism, the piano can establish harmonic and rhythmic foundations, and the saxophone can introduce a more immediate, breath-driven character. Their coexistence gives the piece a distinctive identity without requiring the instruments to lose their individual voices.
“A Hall of Mirrors,” featuring Eugene Friesen and László Rózsa, shifts the atmosphere once more towards emotional introspection. With the cello at its heart, the instrumental arrangement creates a reflective space in which melody and feeling take precedence over stylistic display. The piece is a reminder that, beneath the album’s extraordinary diversity, there is a recurring emotional thread. Whatever musical language Capellaro explores, the expressive possibilities of the cello remain central to her artistic identity.
Finally, “Cello Weather” brings the album to a close. As an instrumental work centred on atmospheric strings and cello, it feels like a natural conclusion to a journey that has travelled through so many different musical territories. Its contemporary yet lyrical character draws attention back to the instrument that connects much of Capellaro’s musical world. After eleven tracks of stylistic exploration, the album ends not by attempting to summarise everything we have heard, but by allowing us to settle into a more contemplative soundscape.
OMOW by Lucia Capellaro: A Library of Musical Worlds
It is not difficult to place OMOW within a specific genre; it is practically impossible. Each track feels like a different book in its own right, with its own language, atmosphere, traditions and emotional landscape. I usually use the metaphor of a book to describe an album, imagining each track as a chapter contributing to a larger narrative. With OMOW, however, I find myself reaching for a different metaphor: a library. Every track is a separate book, and together they form a collection that reflects the extraordinary breadth of human musical expression.
At the centre of this library stands Lucia Capellaro, not as someone trying to impose a single identity on all the music around her, but as an artist who has brought these different voices together and allowed each to speak. The album’s underlying concept makes this approach especially powerful. Recorded during a period when physical separation was affecting the way people connected with one another, OMOW transforms distance into a creative possibility. Its collaborators are not simply guest musicians appearing on a record; they are the very reason the album exists in this form. Each contribution represents a relationship, a musical history and an individual artistic perspective.
This is also what makes the album more than an exercise in genre-hopping. Diversity alone does not guarantee coherence, and an album that moves between hip-hop, Indian classical music, Renaissance-inspired melodies, electronic pop, jazz and contemporary classical music could easily become a disjointed listening experience. Capellaro’s achievement lies in giving these different worlds room to exist while connecting them through a shared purpose. The unity is not necessarily found in a consistent sound, but in the idea behind the music and in the artist’s willingness to listen, respond and collaborate.
OMOW may not be an album for listeners who expect a single, easily defined musical identity, and that is precisely its strength. It invites us to abandon our expectations, remain curious and appreciate the individuality of each musical encounter. For me, the most impressive aspect of the album is not simply that Lucia Capellaro can move between so many styles, but that she understands when to let each style stand on its own. In a musical landscape where artists are often encouraged to develop a recognisable sound and remain within it, OMOW offers a refreshing alternative: an album built around openness, exchange and the possibilities of connection. It is a library worth exploring, with each book offering a new world to discover.
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