Rose Hill
Cusping the halo of consciousness, Rosa Arruti AKA Nad Spiro conjures up a sonically charged space full of moth-like flutters and abstracted transits on Limbo Channel. An investigative inventory of sibilant vocals and murmuring otherness that flutter-flowers your skull in broken orbits and Coil-like elves. An inwardly folding soundscape, full of sculpturally elusive blooms that corrosively creep over you, catch you unawares.
The atmospherically arrowed “Insectiod Saloon” dinning dirge-like in rippling spandex and spanked percussives. A darkwave flavour that ensnares,
seductively shaded in vocal spirals, echoey in a rusted languid choke. It’s a rewarding listen, especially if (like me) you like your ambience dark and foreboding.
Tracks twist to crippled drones seanced in battery-dry drizzles of synths, or beam narcotic as
knifed utterances ride surging kestrels, the effects-saturated shiver seemingly pushing your ear into some repressed memory you find hard to flee from. A splattering of voice that effectively merges with the poured prism of “Invertebrata”, its half-sung mantra effect stuttering to a serrated glacial elsewhere.
An introspective canvas that concludes on the pebbled noir of “Solvent”, its sinistral nature lanced in a vaporous siren of lilting harmonics that leaves an oddly satisfying stain on your psyche.
-Michael Rodham-Heaps-
Cusping the halo of consciousness, Rosa Arruti AKA Nad Spiro conjures up a sonically charged space full of moth-like flutters and abstracted transits on Limbo Channel. An investigative inventory of sibilant vocals and murmuring otherness that flutter-flowers your skull in broken orbits and Coil-like elves. An inwardly folding soundscape, full of sculpturally elusive blooms that corrosively creep over you, catch you unawares.
