bell lungs

Just 52 copies of this ‘un being pressed (well 51 to be a little more precise given we’re in the process of bagging one via PayPal), an enchanting self-released 4 track ethereal from Bell Lungs pressed up on clear 8 inch lathe cut vinyl through Sonically Depicting. Life cycles of relationships and nature serve as the thematic backdrop for this ghost folk dream weaver, those familiar with her previously brief flirtations within these musings, will be all too aware of the spectral brushing she deftly applies to her sonic flutterings via the limited appearances she’s made on the wonderful Sonido Polifonico imprint. That said, ‘Wolves behind us’ reveals the full Bell Lungs creative spectrum, one minute flickering and flittering amid a ghost lit spirit walking twilight shading, the next rubbed with a becoming more earthbound and love noted close intimacy with the latter of these polar opposites being served by both the parting ‘dead earth’ and the demurring ‘falls apart’. Indelibly traced with the kind of starry eyed innocence not to mention the mystery and magic of a youthful Ms Bush, the woodcut wonderland that is ‘dead earth’ shivers and shimmers amid a beautified and regal pageant of ghostly chamber folk yawns and baroque braids. Adored around these here parts there’s a beautiful chill arresting the grooves of the fragile and frail ‘falls apart’ that hints in its initial moments of a hitherto forging of minds between Nico and Sandy Denny before unexpectantly flowering gently into a most beguiling folk spiritual which I guarantee will floor and have you wrapt in its hypnotic spell. Elsewhere cuccooned in caressing chorals, ‘cold wind’ is kissed with an airless grace that much recalls a young Stealing Sheep while just edging matters in the affection stakes and serving as the sets centre piece, title track ‘wolves behind us’. This sleepy headed shadow light is harvested of the kind of haunting beauty that once upon time marked out 4AD, a lilting full moon hymnal lost to the ages and memory found softly rising from its timeless slumber ghosted in all manner of mesmeric and primitive dapples and garlands utterly transfixing.

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