From the clouds
… Ghosts at first, then buried treasure. This is the spring that follows deep winter. The late baby. Diamonds in old pockets. The song that takes you by surprise. Evoletah are a quirk of fate; a beautiful, organic outpouring. Chaotic/poetic. Born of love and circumstance; And as chance would indeed have it. After the quitting of various bands, the moving of cities and the having of children, four old friends found themselves in a room: ready to call up the muse once more. What grew was a language unfamiliar, a new tongue. The music of life and passing. Songs of flesh and blood. Of hard won wisdom. Of compassion. And such unleashed longing. Fuelled by beauty, dancing with spectres. It’s a rich garden. A lush, liquid sound.
We need it like rain …
… Ghosts at first, then buried treasure. This is the spring that follows deep winter. The late baby. Diamonds in old pockets. The song that takes you by surprise. Evoletah are a quirk of fate; a beautiful, organic outpouring. Chaotic/poetic. Born of love and circumstance; And as chance would indeed have it. After the quitting of various bands, the moving of cities and the having of children, four old friends found themselves in a room: ready to call up the muse once more. What grew was a language unfamiliar, a new tongue. The music of life and passing. Songs of flesh and blood. Of hard won wisdom. Of compassion. And such unleashed longing. Fuelled by beauty, dancing with spectres. It’s a rich garden. A lush, liquid sound.
We need it like rain …
