Eli Winter // A Trick of the Light

Post by Misha //

This record is like a little box containing all the pieces of a summer storm. The kind we’re always waiting for in bored moments, without really knowing what we’re waiting for. And then you get that restless shiver of the air, and the birds going quiet, and the gray ceiling of the world coming down inch by inch until you can almost reach up and touch it. The distant yell of the wind, and the ancient, biological way the heart pounds even when safely inside. The soft, brushed snare of cedar boughs blowing against the side of the house, testing their reach. A slick of wet petals coating the ground, delicate enough to have been dislodged by raindrops. Knobby maple branches shaking back and forth like boxers sizing each other up before the first punch. A single call from a confused robin.

Sheets of up-close sound which when they arrive come as a type of relief. Throwing themselves over and around and up into any place where quietness still resides. Something in the body pulled tight enough to strum. Leaves and grasses and roses straining the wrong way on their stems. The sense that we’re all being given an impromptu lesson on the importance of holding on. Then, finally, the release. The sudden dripping quiet as it passes. Sweet smell of crushed flowers which can’t last more than a few minutes. And the reluctant stir of things going back about their business. Into the calm before the next storm.

Even the tender parts are savage and even the savage parts are tender.

Buy A Trick of the Light here. Out via Three Lobed Recordings.