Petals
Warm Currency
Petals
Boomkat Product Review:
Oh this is gorgeous; Warm Currency shimmer thru the folk mantle on 'Petals', returning to the excellent Horn of Plenty imprint with an intimate volume of soul-piercing preternatural spells that sublime dazed poetics, radio noise and found sounds in a mode that feels like a more autumnal, downcast companion to Jonnine’s ‘Southside Girl’ album from earlier this year, as well as those incredible Empress records no one ever seems to talk about anymore.
Matthew P. Hopkins and Mary MacDougall's Warm Currency debut 'Returns' mesmerised in late 2022, and its proper follow-up dilates the narrative by whittling its themes to a bare-boned essence. If its predecessor impressed with its amateur smokehouse of rusted art-pop and windswept poetry, 'Petals' plays like a homesick daydream, haunted by maudlin conundrums.
MacDougall's voice transforms imperceptibly from a soulful moan to a ritualistic, languid murmur, providing an anchor that’s enveloped by the duo's friable, chalk-stained soundscapes. There's still a DIY feel to it all, sculpted from rickety plucked strings, piano reveries and weightless, household fuzz, but each stumble and twang recalls a folk lineage that stretches thru a complex network of field recordings (think Alan Lomax) and localised, home-made delicacies, a surreal yet heartfelt tribute to elapsed humilities.
A one-note piano motif provides a brittle backbone for atrophied duet 'Her House' where MacDougall simmers with intensity, somehow recalling both Beth Gibbons and Delphine Dora - setting the album's themes in motion. 'Weeds' blurs things with buzzing radio static and an eerie, metallic drone. The duo's ‘proper’ songs are nestled between these horizontal, evocative expositions: 'Mirror Market' is a slow hum of dusted, isolationist voices, as wistful as Jeff Alexander's iconic 'Come Wander With Me', as it melts into 'First Cup', a wordless rumble of casual piano hits and piercing feedback.
On 'Clay Graffiti', it sounds as if the duo are strolling through an abandoned township, passing wind chimes, bells and corroded girders, footsteps on broken glass, with MacDougall uttering puzzling phrases. "Books blink at computers," she mutters. "Tireless weirdos clear a path." It's a simmering, inviting kind of dystopian music, adroitly sidestepping contemporary baggage by spying a world that's gone, but not completely forgotten.
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Boomkat Product Review:
Oh this is gorgeous; Warm Currency shimmer thru the folk mantle on 'Petals', returning to the excellent Horn of Plenty imprint with an intimate volume of soul-piercing preternatural spells that sublime dazed poetics, radio noise and found sounds in a mode that feels like a more autumnal, downcast companion to Jonnine’s ‘Southside Girl’ album from earlier this year, as well as those incredible Empress records no one ever seems to talk about anymore.
Matthew P. Hopkins and Mary MacDougall's Warm Currency debut 'Returns' mesmerised in late 2022, and its proper follow-up dilates the narrative by whittling its themes to a bare-boned essence. If its predecessor impressed with its amateur smokehouse of rusted art-pop and windswept poetry, 'Petals' plays like a homesick daydream, haunted by maudlin conundrums.
MacDougall's voice transforms imperceptibly from a soulful moan to a ritualistic, languid murmur, providing an anchor that’s enveloped by the duo's friable, chalk-stained soundscapes. There's still a DIY feel to it all, sculpted from rickety plucked strings, piano reveries and weightless, household fuzz, but each stumble and twang recalls a folk lineage that stretches thru a complex network of field recordings (think Alan Lomax) and localised, home-made delicacies, a surreal yet heartfelt tribute to elapsed humilities.
A one-note piano motif provides a brittle backbone for atrophied duet 'Her House' where MacDougall simmers with intensity, somehow recalling both Beth Gibbons and Delphine Dora - setting the album's themes in motion. 'Weeds' blurs things with buzzing radio static and an eerie, metallic drone. The duo's ‘proper’ songs are nestled between these horizontal, evocative expositions: 'Mirror Market' is a slow hum of dusted, isolationist voices, as wistful as Jeff Alexander's iconic 'Come Wander With Me', as it melts into 'First Cup', a wordless rumble of casual piano hits and piercing feedback.
On 'Clay Graffiti', it sounds as if the duo are strolling through an abandoned township, passing wind chimes, bells and corroded girders, footsteps on broken glass, with MacDougall uttering puzzling phrases. "Books blink at computers," she mutters. "Tireless weirdos clear a path." It's a simmering, inviting kind of dystopian music, adroitly sidestepping contemporary baggage by spying a world that's gone, but not completely forgotten.
Boomkat Product Review:
Oh this is gorgeous; Warm Currency shimmer thru the folk mantle on 'Petals', returning to the excellent Horn of Plenty imprint with an intimate volume of soul-piercing preternatural spells that sublime dazed poetics, radio noise and found sounds in a mode that feels like a more autumnal, downcast companion to Jonnine’s ‘Southside Girl’ album from earlier this year, as well as those incredible Empress records no one ever seems to talk about anymore.
Matthew P. Hopkins and Mary MacDougall's Warm Currency debut 'Returns' mesmerised in late 2022, and its proper follow-up dilates the narrative by whittling its themes to a bare-boned essence. If its predecessor impressed with its amateur smokehouse of rusted art-pop and windswept poetry, 'Petals' plays like a homesick daydream, haunted by maudlin conundrums.
MacDougall's voice transforms imperceptibly from a soulful moan to a ritualistic, languid murmur, providing an anchor that’s enveloped by the duo's friable, chalk-stained soundscapes. There's still a DIY feel to it all, sculpted from rickety plucked strings, piano reveries and weightless, household fuzz, but each stumble and twang recalls a folk lineage that stretches thru a complex network of field recordings (think Alan Lomax) and localised, home-made delicacies, a surreal yet heartfelt tribute to elapsed humilities.
A one-note piano motif provides a brittle backbone for atrophied duet 'Her House' where MacDougall simmers with intensity, somehow recalling both Beth Gibbons and Delphine Dora - setting the album's themes in motion. 'Weeds' blurs things with buzzing radio static and an eerie, metallic drone. The duo's ‘proper’ songs are nestled between these horizontal, evocative expositions: 'Mirror Market' is a slow hum of dusted, isolationist voices, as wistful as Jeff Alexander's iconic 'Come Wander With Me', as it melts into 'First Cup', a wordless rumble of casual piano hits and piercing feedback.
On 'Clay Graffiti', it sounds as if the duo are strolling through an abandoned township, passing wind chimes, bells and corroded girders, footsteps on broken glass, with MacDougall uttering puzzling phrases. "Books blink at computers," she mutters. "Tireless weirdos clear a path." It's a simmering, inviting kind of dystopian music, adroitly sidestepping contemporary baggage by spying a world that's gone, but not completely forgotten.
Boomkat Product Review:
Oh this is gorgeous; Warm Currency shimmer thru the folk mantle on 'Petals', returning to the excellent Horn of Plenty imprint with an intimate volume of soul-piercing preternatural spells that sublime dazed poetics, radio noise and found sounds in a mode that feels like a more autumnal, downcast companion to Jonnine’s ‘Southside Girl’ album from earlier this year, as well as those incredible Empress records no one ever seems to talk about anymore.
Matthew P. Hopkins and Mary MacDougall's Warm Currency debut 'Returns' mesmerised in late 2022, and its proper follow-up dilates the narrative by whittling its themes to a bare-boned essence. If its predecessor impressed with its amateur smokehouse of rusted art-pop and windswept poetry, 'Petals' plays like a homesick daydream, haunted by maudlin conundrums.
MacDougall's voice transforms imperceptibly from a soulful moan to a ritualistic, languid murmur, providing an anchor that’s enveloped by the duo's friable, chalk-stained soundscapes. There's still a DIY feel to it all, sculpted from rickety plucked strings, piano reveries and weightless, household fuzz, but each stumble and twang recalls a folk lineage that stretches thru a complex network of field recordings (think Alan Lomax) and localised, home-made delicacies, a surreal yet heartfelt tribute to elapsed humilities.
A one-note piano motif provides a brittle backbone for atrophied duet 'Her House' where MacDougall simmers with intensity, somehow recalling both Beth Gibbons and Delphine Dora - setting the album's themes in motion. 'Weeds' blurs things with buzzing radio static and an eerie, metallic drone. The duo's ‘proper’ songs are nestled between these horizontal, evocative expositions: 'Mirror Market' is a slow hum of dusted, isolationist voices, as wistful as Jeff Alexander's iconic 'Come Wander With Me', as it melts into 'First Cup', a wordless rumble of casual piano hits and piercing feedback.
On 'Clay Graffiti', it sounds as if the duo are strolling through an abandoned township, passing wind chimes, bells and corroded girders, footsteps on broken glass, with MacDougall uttering puzzling phrases. "Books blink at computers," she mutters. "Tireless weirdos clear a path." It's a simmering, inviting kind of dystopian music, adroitly sidestepping contemporary baggage by spying a world that's gone, but not completely forgotten.
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Boomkat Product Review:
Oh this is gorgeous; Warm Currency shimmer thru the folk mantle on 'Petals', returning to the excellent Horn of Plenty imprint with an intimate volume of soul-piercing preternatural spells that sublime dazed poetics, radio noise and found sounds in a mode that feels like a more autumnal, downcast companion to Jonnine’s ‘Southside Girl’ album from earlier this year, as well as those incredible Empress records no one ever seems to talk about anymore.
Matthew P. Hopkins and Mary MacDougall's Warm Currency debut 'Returns' mesmerised in late 2022, and its proper follow-up dilates the narrative by whittling its themes to a bare-boned essence. If its predecessor impressed with its amateur smokehouse of rusted art-pop and windswept poetry, 'Petals' plays like a homesick daydream, haunted by maudlin conundrums.
MacDougall's voice transforms imperceptibly from a soulful moan to a ritualistic, languid murmur, providing an anchor that’s enveloped by the duo's friable, chalk-stained soundscapes. There's still a DIY feel to it all, sculpted from rickety plucked strings, piano reveries and weightless, household fuzz, but each stumble and twang recalls a folk lineage that stretches thru a complex network of field recordings (think Alan Lomax) and localised, home-made delicacies, a surreal yet heartfelt tribute to elapsed humilities.
A one-note piano motif provides a brittle backbone for atrophied duet 'Her House' where MacDougall simmers with intensity, somehow recalling both Beth Gibbons and Delphine Dora - setting the album's themes in motion. 'Weeds' blurs things with buzzing radio static and an eerie, metallic drone. The duo's ‘proper’ songs are nestled between these horizontal, evocative expositions: 'Mirror Market' is a slow hum of dusted, isolationist voices, as wistful as Jeff Alexander's iconic 'Come Wander With Me', as it melts into 'First Cup', a wordless rumble of casual piano hits and piercing feedback.
On 'Clay Graffiti', it sounds as if the duo are strolling through an abandoned township, passing wind chimes, bells and corroded girders, footsteps on broken glass, with MacDougall uttering puzzling phrases. "Books blink at computers," she mutters. "Tireless weirdos clear a path." It's a simmering, inviting kind of dystopian music, adroitly sidestepping contemporary baggage by spying a world that's gone, but not completely forgotten.
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