Soft Rock

PREMIERE: John Moods - Leap Of Love

Will Shenton

John Mood's "Leap Of Love" opens like the dawning of a dream. Replete with somnolent warmth, it wraps the listener in its melodies and falsetto vocals before whisking them off to a hazily affectionate realm. "A love song which remains a mystery even to its creator," it evokes the universality of romance while simultaneously acknowledging that, on some level, it will always be unknowable.

Like the rest of his forthcoming LP, The Essential John Moods, "Leap Of Love" was written by artist Jonathan Jarzyna (of Fenster) during a solo hike of the Iberian coast. Originally recorded on his cell phone with no instruments but a backpacking guitar, the lush texture of the track is all the more staggering.

The Essential John Moods will be out April 20 on Berlin label Mansions and Millions. In the meantime, let the balmy yearning of "Leap Of Love" wash over you.

REVIEW: Eva Ross - Lose

Kelly Kirwan

Eva Ross is living with ghosts. They go by names like loneliness, regret, longing, and as is the rub for far too many artists to count, they serve as both burden and muse. Her latest album, Lose, is a seven-track dip into those moments of melancholy. The Kentucky native has channeled the pain of her past—and the lethargy it precipitated—into an album that’s filled with rich, simmering guitar and nightingale vocals. From the first notes, Ross lures you into a world painted in icy blue hues. Her voice is ethereal, fragile, draped across her mournful arrangements with a slight warble to her sharp soprano. It's almost reminiscent of those dark fairytales that deal in grim ironies—a beautiful voice that came at the cost of anguish.

“I’m not sure I want to exist / If I don’t have the will to choose / Which memories I’ll keep or I will lose,” Ross muses on the title track, a harrowing line that echoes long after her soft, understated delivery fades. She wrestles those existential qualms with a certain grace, but always wears her vulnerability on her sleeve. In fact, her music offers a new twist on that famed Ernest Hemingway quote, that all there was to writing was to sit down at a typewriter and bleed. For Ross, her wounds are laid bare in her music, and her pain spills out as if she were spinning silk. 

The song "It’s Fine" highlights a phrase that almost never rings true for the person uttering it. There’s a subtle current of strength running through Ross’ voice though, despite feeling like it might float away with a gust of wind. She weaves together images that form a recognizable narrative: a person close to her becoming a stranger, and the exhaustion that comes as the flame flickers out. “Take my hand as I lift up praise to God / And I'm trying to study and pass all my grades / While you're in a car getting high all day,” she sings, before echoing the title again and again. It’s not fine, or at least it wasn’t then. But if Ross has shown anything in her latest work, it’s that even when battered by circumstance, she trudges on.

As Ross stares defiantly towards the camera on the cover of Lose, vibrant red in the background, there’s a steel to her gaze. She may have been kicked down, but she’s persevered, prevailing by virtue of catharsis. And by listening, we do as well.

REVIEW: Hoop - Super Genuine

Laura Kerry

“When you push, I draw back / Then you hide and I want more.”

In the new Hoop album Super Genuine, this line from “Folded Impulse,” featuring Allyson Foster, describes the inverse relationship between two people. When one person does something, it provokes the opposite reaction in the other. To illustrate the point, Foster and Caitlin Roberts, the band’s frontwoman, sing a soft call-and-response, both their voices quiet and delicate.

While many of the most emotionally vulnerable albums mine the artist’s inner thoughts and feelings, Super Genuine remains mostly outward-facing. Like in “Folded Impulse,” it examines the relationships between various points—friends, lovers, family. Hoop, which began as a duo in a small town in Washington, has slowly transformed into a quartet that grew out of Roberts’ new home in Seattle—called the “Womb Room”—with housemates-turned-bandmates Leena Joshi and Pamela Santiago (Inge Chiles joined later). The first album they've made together reflects the closeness that comes from sharing a space and, as the name of that space hints at, feminist sensibilities.

Throughout Super Genuine, Hoop explores vulnerability through connections with others. In the opener, “Marlin Spike,” Roberts sings, “You hate to tell me you’re scared to lose me / You hate to tell me you really need me” in a quiet song about falling for one who won’t open up. In “Skiptracer,” Hoop offers support and counsel to an addressee named Michael, who is similarly inhibited. “Surrender yourself,” she sings, “And at the same time explore yourself.” At other times, Hoop is happy in the face of love. In “Good Dregs,” she sings, “It's the right time to learn something new / To learn new ways to love you.” In “Baseboard” (featuring Briana Marela), Hoop is defiant, proclaiming that there are limits to what she can give without return. “I’m not here to please you,” she sings. “Nothing can make me stay.”

Even when strong and defiant, though, Hoop sings in an ethereal, childlike voice. Most of the time, this emphasizes the emotional potency of the music. In combination with simple guitar patterns, it occasionally sounds thin—lacking the grounding that Hoop has in their lyrics. True to the legacy of their location, the band also plays with a heavier, grungier sound at times. “To Know Your Tone” (featuring Allyson Foster), “Drawn To You,” and “Send Purpose Down” all feature fuzzier guitars that comprise a full, shoegazey style. Elsewhere, Hoop fills in their sound with layers of harmony, beat loops, and shimmery synths.

Among more common contemporary genre markers on their Bandcamp page, such as “pop” and “alternative,” Hoop lists “feelings.” Though the songs are light and melodic, that dimension of Super Genuine does require some effort on the part of the listener. Hoop doesn’t just confront the subjects of their songs, they also address the audience. Ultimately, though, the album is cathartic. It is, as they say in the optimistic glow of the final song, “Bask In Easy Tone,” “water to wash [our] hands.”