Liverpool Sound and Vision Rating 7.5/10
There are those who thrive in the matter of fact of the day, to them the night is the reason that sleep exists and the argument that the moon offers writers a solitary friend; the night perhaps only existing in which to drown out the noise that forms in the day. The night though offers its own sense of wonder, the isolation that exists is somehow pure, filtered of the mess of clamour that wrecks havoc on creativity and lets loose the dogs of anguished impatience. The day being reversed brings a special kind of music that can only be heard in the quietest instant.
The beauty of the night encourages thought and release and for MMOTHS, the sanctity of the moon and all seeing dark that radiates upon the solo artist, gives confidence that brings fascinating results in the worthy instrumental epic Luneworks.
Jake Colleran (MMOTHS) utilises the night in such a way that by immersing himself into the regime of Los Angeles darkness, the flip side the glowing beauty that Jim Morrison mused over in tales of debauchery and confided sexual pillow talk, and it brings upon it a life force that arguably might not sit well with some but the colossal introspection, the gravitas of the immense project undertaken should be viewed with thought, appreciation and deliberation; in that stance, in that quiet reflection such avenues of wonder are opened up and made clear.
Written entirely, composed, produced and performed by MMOTHS, the tangled refinement offered sees the songs flow gracefully like a butterfly taking flight over the green lush fields of Ireland, a concept that has huge consideration but is missed by those who only see the result of harvest.
In tracks such as Para Polaris, Verbena, Body Studies and 1709 the instrumental expressions of agony wrapped in the amber ecstasy rival each other with intensity, each covering a delicious fight between the two states of human experience and emotion driven completely by the perfection of isolation.
Luneworks because it must, it offers the dark an escape valve, not one in which to sink into melancholic lines, but instead one that shouts that is O.K. to believe that the quiet solitude that night brings is just as natural as sun worshiping.
Ian D. Hall