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On Jaalaâs first two albums, 2015âs Hard Hold and 2018âs Joonya Spirit, guitars, drums, bass and vocals ricocheted across the stereo spectrum in a frantic scramble, sharing musical DNA with fellow adventurers such as Deerhoof. The Melbourne bandâs sound was all angles and elbows, a jagged web of exciting shapes protecting a tender, wounded core. On their new album Gap Tooth, the bruised soul of songwriter Cosima Jaala is laid bare. Her quartet has become a trio, subbing out second guitar and bass for new member Carolyn Schofield (Fia Fiell) on synths, piano and violin, while drummer Maria Moles remains the bandâs fluttering heart. This time around, the guitar and drumsâ nervous, shifting gestures are coddled by Schofieldâs soundscapes to narcotic effect, while Jaalaâs vocals explore themes of falling in love, opening up, and growing through pain rather than being lost in its convulsions.
Schofieldâs contributions are most overt on stunning first single âWorkhorse,â as she sets up a woozy synth arpeggio, over which pedalled chord washes ebb and flow, Jaala confessing her love: âOut of nowhere youâre there for me / You love me more than youâre allowed to / Iâm in line with love / Your precious heart isnât hard like the others.â The trackâs languorous sway feels like listening to hip-hop at half speed, and culminates in some fantastic breakbeats from Moles. Opener âAll Hereâ is similarly gorgeous, tracing strident, reverb-drenched guitar lines over plangent major-sevenths.
The album takes a bit of a detour into more conventional territory during its middle third. On âFunny Shape,â the ascending flashes of piano suggest a warped take on smooth, supper jazz, while âWhich Wayâ exhibits the muscular swing of brassy soul music. Late highlight âI Love You (DJ Set)â foregroundâs Jaalaâs trademark scurrying, spidery guitar over a smoky trip-hop groove reminiscent of co-producer Nick Herreraâs band Kalacoma, who used to include Moles among their number.
Although Gap Tooth does miss some of the fizzing dynamism of Jaalaâs earlier records, the band compensates for this with a consistent, affecting mood that proves immersive and intoxicating.
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High in the southern mountains of a wild land, there lies a small village, unremarkable and unimportant, that survives on half-wild goats and sheep and hardy cold-endurant vegetables. Itâs an isolated place, and only the few closest villages--each many miles away, and only seeing a representative of this little hamlet once a year or so--and a few grim-faced and sturdy merchants even know it exists. Like many of these small communities, it doesnât even appear in the local powersâ records, or on their maps. The mountains as a whole are of little interest to modern officials, since theyâd be lucky to squeeze five gold a year out of all those tiny villages put together, and theyâre far too well-educated to believe in old folk tales of ancient magical artifacts hidden away in the mountainâs many caves and vales.
In such a small community, youâd expect tieflings to be viewed with especial suspicion--and that might have been true for Jaala Khozet and his antecedents, if anyone there had known what the unusual features that sometimes popped up in the bloodline meant. But Jaalaâs great-great grandmother had been the village witch, a respectable and important position, and his great-great grandfather had been unwisely unfaithful, and the tale in the village was that the witch had turned her husband to a goat for a while to humiliate him for his behavior, so when the child conceived after heâd changed his ways had been born with horns, and a tail, and cloven hooves... well, it might seem like a just-so story, but the logic of it was simple enough. Jaala had never heard the word âtieflingâ in his life--until the wizard came.
Wizards, unlike government officials, tend to follow the trails of old folk tales about hidden magical artifacts. Especially wizards interested in power, and unscrupulous about how they get it. Jaala, who despite his vaguely goatish appearance (his skin was a faded steel blue, and his horns more like a ramâs than a billy goatâs, but he had the hooves and the yellow goat-pupilled eyes and a tuft of fur at the end of his tail, and of course the familial associations) was apprenticed to one of the foresters instead of being responsible for the family herd (six children is too many to live on shepherding alone), was helping haul logs when the wizard arrived, so he and his teacher returned home that evening to a nasty shock: great magical creatures prowling the village, holding their families and friends confined, while the wizard systematically questioned the villagers about magical influences and occurrences in their local folklore.
Jaalaâs teacher was a brave woman; she tried to rush one of the wizardâs monstrosities, and was gravely injured for her pains. As she went down, she shouted at Jaala to run, to save himself. He bolted into the trees, terror and obedience both urging him to flee to safety. Once heâd escaped, though, loyalty compelled him to turn back around. He couldnât turn his back on his village, so how could he help, instead? Going for outside aid seemed a hopeless venture--the nearest villages were days away, and they couldnât do any more about a wizard than his could. He had only a vague and hazy knowledge of the larger kingdoms that lay in the lowlands, and no idea which one technically ruled his village, but they were weeks away, and besides, he had heard the eldersâ opinions on taxes.
He racked his brain for what he knew about wizards. They relied on spellbooks, didnât they? Just the same as the village witch, who had two of the villageâs only three books in her house, one of them a book on anatomy and common diseases, the other a compendium of herbal remedies. All Jaala had to do was find the wizardâs spellbook and take it from him, and the wizardâs spells would be useless. The monsters would vanish, and any spells he was using on the villagers would fade away, and, this was the other thing Jaala knew about wizards, once that happened they bled and died the same as anyone else if you put a knife in them.
It was a solid plan, and it might even have worked, had Jaala had any talent for stealth or subterfuge. Instead he found himself face-to-face with the wizard, half the wizardâs baggage strewn across the ground from Jaalaâs frantic digging, a pair of slavering monstrosities poised to pounce. It was only Jaalaâs good luck that the wizard moved before the monsters did (though it didnât seem like good luck at the time), lashing out at Jaala with a cloud of draining magic that drained him, slow and screaming, into a wizened bloodless husk.
Jaala died there. He knows he did, though he doesnât remember most of it. There was the pain, and then the darkness, and then he stood alone on a level and sunless plain, a dull flat landscape covered in sparse grey grass and a few huddled trees and nothing else to rest the eye on, as far as the dim and sourceless light allowed him to see. And there was the desperate, unquenchable first. There must be some part of the journey heâs forgotten, because all he remembers is the endless plain; he doesnât remember coming upon the water, at last, only kneeling over the still and stagnant pool and bending his head to drink. And then the cold hand on his back that pushed him in, tumbling headfirst into the black water, and coming back to himself, lying breathless and freezing where the wizard had left his corpse.
It feels, he still swears to this day, like an eternity had passed on that dark plain, though he recalls almost nothing of it. But in the world of the living, it must have barely been a minute, for the wizard was still turning away, his back to the tiefling heâd so casually killed. Jaala doesnât know where the strength came from to stand, but somehow he rose, silently, muscles somehow working despite the lack of blood in his veins. And he has only the shakiest notion of where the magic came from, either, when he reached out towards the wizardâs exposed back--but come it did, in the form of a skeletal hand closing around the wizardâs neck.
The wizard was stronger, and more knowledgeable, and doubtless more skilled. If it had come to a pitched battle, Jaala has no doubt that he would have died again. But instead the wizard turned and looked at him, and the look in his eyes was one of realization, recognition, one that turned quickly to fear. Not of the trembling, bloodless tiefling who stood before him, Jaala is certain of that, but of whatever power had acted to bring him back to life, and to empower him with sorcery in the bargain. And so the wizard made a panicked gesture, and he, and his monsters, and much of his own, all vanished in a rush of sound and air, leaving the village once again free of his presence.
Which didnât mean he wouldnât come back. Jaala knew, in the same unconscious place from which came the instinctive gestures and utterances for his first simple spells, that this the purpose for which heâd been brought back to life. Someday the wizard would return, or someone like him, stronger and more dangerous and better-prepared, and the mysterious power that had raised Jaala wouldnât be enough to protect them. For the sake of his village, and whatever secrets their hills were hiding, Jaala had to seek out this wizard and his fellows and end the threat that they posed, before they were ready to return and enact it.
Heâs not happy about it--leaving his family, leaving the village, leaving his half-learned work and the satisfactions of his simple life. The world beyond the village is terrifying and vast. But itâs literally what heâs here to do, and love and loyalty will not permit him to turn aside from the task. Besides, his family is kind of freaked out by whatâs happened to him, and Jaala figures that this way he can give them some space to adapt.
Relentless Nature: If you start your turn below half your max HP, you gain one hit point; if you die, you return to life after 24 hours; if your body is destroyed, you reform (without equipment) within 1 mile of your place of death; you know the distance and direction between you and any creature involved with your goal, if they are on the same plane.
Age: Tieflings mature at the same rate as humans and live a few years longer, except when they are undead revenants who will die when their driving task is done. Jaala is, rather permanently, 24.
Alignment: Neutral Good
Size: Medium (5â˛6âł, 180 lbs)
Speed: 30 feet
Darkvision: 60 feet
Languages: Common
Class: Shadow Sorcerer
Arcane Origin: Your power arises from your familyâs bloodline. You are related to a powerful witch, and believe you were touched by her ghost.
Reactions: Your powers are seen as a frightening but valuable blessing by those around you, and you are expected to use them in service to your community.
Supernatural Marks: Your skin has turned a permanent pale blueish-grey, which in contrast to your original coloring is clearly a pallor of death.
Signs of Sorcery: For a moment after you cast a spell, the area immediately around you is freezing cold.
Shadow Sorcerer Quirk: You barely bleed, even when badly injured.
Strength of the Grave: When damage reduces you to 0 hit points, except when the damage is radiant damage or caused by a critical hit, you can make a Charisma saving throw (DC 5 + damage taken). On a success, you instead drop to 1 hit point. After a success, you cannot use this again until you finish a long rest.
Background: Folk Hero
Defining Event: An ancestorâs magical intervention empowered me to drive away a threat to my community.
