Fugged and liminal dreampop stylings from the spectral duo of Amelia Besseny & Cooper Bowman, aka Troth, making their debut for A Colourful Storm on an enchanting session of a cappella flights of fancy thru to tropical birdsong, piano recitals and fizzing lullabies, like an inebriated Tara Clerkin Trio jamming with Elodie at the midnight hour.
Through almost an hour of pregnant, blissed emotion, Amelia Besseny’s vocals take centre-stage, wreathed in reverb and set to Bowman’s barely-there arrangement of brittle synths and charred atmospheres, punctuated by the suave swirl of Anna Langdon’s saxophone motifs, in full romantic bloom.
The duo depict a sense of fraught sublime with poised instrumentation underpinning the resounding ache and beauty of Besseny’s voice. It begins with their unadorned version of ‘The Well Below the Valley’ and slips into hallucinatory states with the organ and sweltering atmosphere of ‘Wolkenträume’, coming closest to Lolina, or Laila Sakini’s brooding qualities in ‘The Slowest Dawn’.
There’s a poignant end-of-the-earth blooze to their ‘Kind of Cure’, and ‘Days Become a Circle’ reduces everything to a rapt cinder, weaving keys around a closing incantation. For a sense of the uncanny, the Deja entendu so often triggered by that ever expanding crew of after-hours specialists operating in and around Naarm (well, in this case, Hobart), this really is as bleary eyed and special as it gets.
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Fugged and liminal dreampop stylings from the spectral duo of Amelia Besseny & Cooper Bowman, aka Troth, making their debut for A Colourful Storm on an enchanting session of a cappella flights of fancy thru to tropical birdsong, piano recitals and fizzing lullabies, like an inebriated Tara Clerkin Trio jamming with Elodie at the midnight hour.
Through almost an hour of pregnant, blissed emotion, Amelia Besseny’s vocals take centre-stage, wreathed in reverb and set to Bowman’s barely-there arrangement of brittle synths and charred atmospheres, punctuated by the suave swirl of Anna Langdon’s saxophone motifs, in full romantic bloom.
The duo depict a sense of fraught sublime with poised instrumentation underpinning the resounding ache and beauty of Besseny’s voice. It begins with their unadorned version of ‘The Well Below the Valley’ and slips into hallucinatory states with the organ and sweltering atmosphere of ‘Wolkenträume’, coming closest to Lolina, or Laila Sakini’s brooding qualities in ‘The Slowest Dawn’.
There’s a poignant end-of-the-earth blooze to their ‘Kind of Cure’, and ‘Days Become a Circle’ reduces everything to a rapt cinder, weaving keys around a closing incantation. For a sense of the uncanny, the Deja entendu so often triggered by that ever expanding crew of after-hours specialists operating in and around Naarm (well, in this case, Hobart), this really is as bleary eyed and special as it gets.
Fugged and liminal dreampop stylings from the spectral duo of Amelia Besseny & Cooper Bowman, aka Troth, making their debut for A Colourful Storm on an enchanting session of a cappella flights of fancy thru to tropical birdsong, piano recitals and fizzing lullabies, like an inebriated Tara Clerkin Trio jamming with Elodie at the midnight hour.
Through almost an hour of pregnant, blissed emotion, Amelia Besseny’s vocals take centre-stage, wreathed in reverb and set to Bowman’s barely-there arrangement of brittle synths and charred atmospheres, punctuated by the suave swirl of Anna Langdon’s saxophone motifs, in full romantic bloom.
The duo depict a sense of fraught sublime with poised instrumentation underpinning the resounding ache and beauty of Besseny’s voice. It begins with their unadorned version of ‘The Well Below the Valley’ and slips into hallucinatory states with the organ and sweltering atmosphere of ‘Wolkenträume’, coming closest to Lolina, or Laila Sakini’s brooding qualities in ‘The Slowest Dawn’.
There’s a poignant end-of-the-earth blooze to their ‘Kind of Cure’, and ‘Days Become a Circle’ reduces everything to a rapt cinder, weaving keys around a closing incantation. For a sense of the uncanny, the Deja entendu so often triggered by that ever expanding crew of after-hours specialists operating in and around Naarm (well, in this case, Hobart), this really is as bleary eyed and special as it gets.
Fugged and liminal dreampop stylings from the spectral duo of Amelia Besseny & Cooper Bowman, aka Troth, making their debut for A Colourful Storm on an enchanting session of a cappella flights of fancy thru to tropical birdsong, piano recitals and fizzing lullabies, like an inebriated Tara Clerkin Trio jamming with Elodie at the midnight hour.
Through almost an hour of pregnant, blissed emotion, Amelia Besseny’s vocals take centre-stage, wreathed in reverb and set to Bowman’s barely-there arrangement of brittle synths and charred atmospheres, punctuated by the suave swirl of Anna Langdon’s saxophone motifs, in full romantic bloom.
The duo depict a sense of fraught sublime with poised instrumentation underpinning the resounding ache and beauty of Besseny’s voice. It begins with their unadorned version of ‘The Well Below the Valley’ and slips into hallucinatory states with the organ and sweltering atmosphere of ‘Wolkenträume’, coming closest to Lolina, or Laila Sakini’s brooding qualities in ‘The Slowest Dawn’.
There’s a poignant end-of-the-earth blooze to their ‘Kind of Cure’, and ‘Days Become a Circle’ reduces everything to a rapt cinder, weaving keys around a closing incantation. For a sense of the uncanny, the Deja entendu so often triggered by that ever expanding crew of after-hours specialists operating in and around Naarm (well, in this case, Hobart), this really is as bleary eyed and special as it gets.
Edition of 100 copies, includes a download of the album dropped to your account. Mastered by Mikey Young. Paintings by Amelia Besseny. Layout by Matthew Xue
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Fugged and liminal dreampop stylings from the spectral duo of Amelia Besseny & Cooper Bowman, aka Troth, making their debut for A Colourful Storm on an enchanting session of a cappella flights of fancy thru to tropical birdsong, piano recitals and fizzing lullabies, like an inebriated Tara Clerkin Trio jamming with Elodie at the midnight hour.
Through almost an hour of pregnant, blissed emotion, Amelia Besseny’s vocals take centre-stage, wreathed in reverb and set to Bowman’s barely-there arrangement of brittle synths and charred atmospheres, punctuated by the suave swirl of Anna Langdon’s saxophone motifs, in full romantic bloom.
The duo depict a sense of fraught sublime with poised instrumentation underpinning the resounding ache and beauty of Besseny’s voice. It begins with their unadorned version of ‘The Well Below the Valley’ and slips into hallucinatory states with the organ and sweltering atmosphere of ‘Wolkenträume’, coming closest to Lolina, or Laila Sakini’s brooding qualities in ‘The Slowest Dawn’.
There’s a poignant end-of-the-earth blooze to their ‘Kind of Cure’, and ‘Days Become a Circle’ reduces everything to a rapt cinder, weaving keys around a closing incantation. For a sense of the uncanny, the Deja entendu so often triggered by that ever expanding crew of after-hours specialists operating in and around Naarm (well, in this case, Hobart), this really is as bleary eyed and special as it gets.