Every song on Widowspeak’s self-titled debut is about yearning for something — whether it’s time gone by or what to do with the time you have.
With seductive, half-discernable vocals, this musical triumvirate creates a sound that is charming and haunting, while fully reliant on polished instrumentals. Lyrically, the album ranges from clever wordplay to subtle historical allusions.
“Puritan” opens the album with an inventive ballad combining an upbeat soundscape with sharp religious references, sans preachiness. The song, like the rest of “Widowspeak” explores its subject with a romantic restlessness, like the mind of a wandering child.
This curiosity reaches its peak with “Limbs,” where vocalist Molly Hamilton croons, “Floating in a forever haze / What to do with every days?” Lyrical questions like these, although nothing more than the idle musings of dazed youth, are popular among bored peers.
If there’s one downfall to this album, it’s vocal monotony. Hamilton’s enthralling lull barely changes dynamics from beginning to end. It’s emotive and interesting, but unchanging.
“Ghost Boy” closes the album, showcasing the band’s ability to match lyrics with sound. Steady, foreboding drums ring out as Hamilton sings, “I could see through him / His love for the living.”
Hamilton’s woebegone howls fill the final minute of the album — and just like the songs before it — leave the listener with the haunting sense that innocence has been lost.
