by Tobias Moore

Back and forth, back and forth, the ebb and flow of sea tide provides a calming retreat – its salted touch a safe haven for many. Yet, underneath the seafoam, lies a darkness, a blue deeper than midnight. A vibrant silence, which is where Maria BC’s Devil’s Rain lies.

 With such fluidity between its soundscapes, the tracks possess a disconcerting level of transience. Unmaker’s sinister, surreal tones are met with a siren like voice – each melody is natural and timed to perfection – but just as quickly as these dystopian walls of sound emerge, they vanish falling effortlessly into place. But never does the Ohio native’s voice get in the way – on the title track it blurs against the twisting guitars – acting like another instrument in the moulded landscape.

With haunting serenity, there is a flitting consciousness to the these brief, nightmarish lullabies that leaves you transfixed within a realm of broken intimacy. At the beginning of the journey, Devil’s Rain is the first press of the key into the lock – the turn will come in good time.