This is moody music. Sounds steeped and finished within interrupted joy and extended longing. The Cuidadé EP is a rucksack sewn taught with strands of nighttime thread. Inside this satchel are three charms. The first song, “Cabin In The Snow,” glistens with a gaunt face hid in half-shadow, with tears of past remembrances spilling. And, for a short time an ink smeared sky clears bearing a full moon, its light offers solace briefly; only until the dark clouds close and surround again. The second talisman, “Call My Name” is a cold carved stone with the scaly vibrations of an unsure heart. It whispers caution on a raspy wind, and you turn twist in your bed, until an unresolved pain groans against the coming burden of morn. And third item, “Brother’s Blood” is a wretched phylactery. It weaves tendrils of sad emotion against stumbling heart. This last song smells of death and ash; of light chased from eyes and laughter plucked of mirth. But strangely, it is the strongest of the three, for the sour fruit of its lament bears the seeds of hope.
This is the Cuidadé EP, and it gives the songwriter and musicians who’ve conjured it reason and space enough to mourn and rage beneath an apathetic and heavenly scrim. And in the end, the music converses with a ghost, a ghost gone but not forgotten. This is painfully beautiful music. Peace. Continue reading “Drift Wood Miracle // Cuidadé EP”
