Lycia

Cold (Projekt)
by Angela Dauthi

Slate grey skies, an acrid wind blowing from the East. Pavement scraped clean, but the atmosphere is still dank and bitter. With night approaching, pale apparitions pull their cloaks further around them, slipping wraith-like into alleys and doorways, trying to escape the frigid darkness.

Appropriately enough, the new album from Lycia is called Cold (Projekt). From the endless reverb opening of “Frozen,” the mood is one of Winter. Empty wastelands. Barren cities. Full moons on February midnights. The songs are all drawn out, weighed down with processional drums and full strings. Guitars gently pluck out single, shimmering notes, like isolated snowflakes caught in a spotlight. The voices, alternately from Mike Vanportfleet and Tara Vanflower, balance between a rich tenor and a floating soprano, emoting Cocteau beautifully over lines like “These last days… December/This glory slips away.” The one thing I’m always drawn back to, though, is the drums. Solid, methodical, huge. They sound like canyons, vast, distant. If you ever find yourself alone this winter, open a bottle of Burgundy, play this CD softly, and think about your past lovers.