Holy Cross EP
Sixteen minutes of tape-hissed folk and skeletal piano. A fragile, wintery document of isolation that sounds like a memory fading in real time.
Sixteen minutes of tape-hissed folk and skeletal piano. A fragile, wintery document of isolation that sounds like a memory fading in real time.
It sounds like a ghost playing a guitar in a room full of old tapes.
A profound, quiet loneliness that feels both heavy and strangely comforting.
The writing leans far further into grief than the rest of the catalogue.
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