Some nights you want a particular song as much as you want a particular drink. Whether a broken-hearted lonely dusk or an evening of numb-out or a cascade of hours wherein every moment is a breath of fireworks chroma burning the air around it, you want the sensation that both the music and the drink will bring while glinting off the second-hand of the clock.
Hauntingly lonely at points with the coziness of late 1960s folk, Orlando is that sound you reach for like a sweater in lieu of someone’s arms.
“Alive, alive / I feel alive / Alive, alive / See the light.”
A warm swirl of autumn taking the edge off the forlorn cold, this Barcelona-based duo capture the sadness that drives so many to become twilight listeners of Nick Cave. Contemplative, sad and emotional, orlando marries the poetry of solid songwriting with simple folk melodies–electric and analog alike.
Lead singer Hilary James bends at a lower vocal octave reminiscent of the late Nico on “When You Confess,” a soft track swollen with acoustic guitar whose balance is kept by the gentle ebb of a cello. Heavier still and rooted with outdoor nature samples and a rain stick is, “A Morning in May,” a song featuring James’s collaborator John Stuart on the microphone. For cello lovers, “Alive” presents a lullaby of deep sonorous notes upon which James’s rich, crimson voice sails, “Alive, alive / I feel alive / Alive, alive / See the light.”
A gorgeous listen when the trees are still naked in spite of sunshine, the delicate work of Orlando swims the way a hot toddy should swivel down the throat: warm, comforting and pulling a little crush of color to the face.
“When You Confess”
Sal Christ is a writer with headphones glued to her ears. Getting some hang time upside down daily is of the utmost importance, as is an obsession with the PCH. For more music action, follow her on Twitter or email her.