Slow Creatures carried resilience and ruin through the panoramic sorrow of ‘When the Levee Breaks’

In their latest single, When the Levee Breaks, Slow Creatures let folk strings meet honkytonk timbre as the melancholy in their vocal vibrato amplifies the emotion in their tentative melodies, which are enough to make macramé out of your heartstrings. As a parable of the limits of resilience, of how there are only so many proverbial downfalls/downpours we can withstand before we drown, When the Levee Breaks is an achingly affecting release, one shaped to stay with you long after the final cadence settles. The distorted guitar brings a dusky shade of Southern Gothic folk into the frame, allowing space to meditate on the pain carried through the poetic confessionals that preceded the middle-eight-esque aural curveball. That moment alone assures that from there on out, you’ll never put Slow Creatures in a box or view them as simply pastiche. Their layered harmonies are enough to die for, their instinct for pulling an Emerald Isle breeze through their panoramas feels entirely earned, and they prove that the art of traditional folk songcrafting is by no means lost. There is sincerity, sorrow and steadiness breathing through each shift in tone. Formed in East Clare in 2024 by Rowan Noonan Ganley and Fiontán Cahill, […]

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