![]() It’s a little box of whispers and secrets that’ll haunt your heart and dreams aplenty. Not simply because it’s intense or occasionally over morose but mainly because it’s pretty, bloody, special. Grace & Lies isn’t the kind of record you could, or probably should, play every day. ![]() It’s time to keep your appointment with the Wicker Man! As we march the last mountain peak to celebrate the breaking dawn, Krans dances her parting mantra “Oh sweet! Old friend! Rise the end! Forgive the rest!”. It begins wistful, with open horizons, twinklin’ stars on fire and whispy tumbleweeds, before Krans suddenly appears halfway, entranced and wrapped in a hooded cloak with flaming torch in hand. ‘Tis true the night falls darkest just before the dawn, but the epic, spiralling spook-folk finale “Rest” lulls you into a false sense of security. Sultry drawl, sweaty brows and, to quote the great philosopher Nelly, “It’s getting hot in herre…” There’s much January frost across Grace but the brooding and smoky “Again” comes closest to bringin’ some Tennessee heat. I will call you what I wish!” cries a exhausted but defiant Krans. Elsewhere the poetic, delicate acoustics, cracklin’ campfires and distant mountain howl of “Your Name” light the night like Eddie Vedder’s tender, troubled Into the Wild soundtrack. Awash with ominous stormclouds, seers and “Trouble that’s coming”. The Gothic blues of “Ride” echo Neil Young at his most raggedly atmospheric and conjure the spirits of Deadwood, South Dakota, 1870. “Lord the ending is coming!” The Family Band clearly care little for concerned locals’ advice to “Stay on the road, keep off the moors” and wilfully favour the trail of the lonesome pine. “You have named me as the keeper of this dream”, sighs Krans with intoxicated devotion. The glacial, slowdance drag of “Keeper” is equally tragic-romantic. Sweathearts and tattoos at the Roadhouse. Its heartbeat patter and mirrorball drift illuminates a softly swaying tide of leather jackets and prom dresses. The lonesome melody of the title track similarly recalls White Lodge alumni Julee Cruise’s divine “Nightingale”. A single spot of blood on the party dress and the sense of inescapable dread. Lightly-brushed percussion, mournful ’50s guitar and Krans’ blurry, slo-mo torch singer clutching every moment tight as if this were the last dance, “I gotta hear your wanderin’ sound”. Mysteries and magic, “Moonbeams in your mouth / Stardust pouring out”. The aching waltz “Moonbeams” is vintage Twin Peaks. It’s a beautiful, bloody heart, especially when it enters David Lynch territory. “I will walk you home tonight!” beckons Krans.īut what impresses most is Grace & Lies‘ heart. “Lace” continues the pulsating John Carpenter-rush and is akin to being chased through a dream either by Michael Myers or Robert Smith. By the time the tense Halloween piano chords strike we’ve firmly established “This is not LMFAO”. “Hold me ’til morning takes my eyes!” mourns Krans, possibly whilst wearing a willowy-white nightdress, holding a lantern and crossing the moors. Kim Krans’ mesmerizing vocal is distant, icy and alluring as a Siren’s whilst her ex-headbangin’ hubby Jonny Ollsin’s six-string flickers electricity like batwings’ aflappin’ over the crunchy, footstompin’ zombified backbeat. Our nocturnal witching hour (OK technically “witching 38 minutes”) begins cryptically and fittingly with “Night Song”. “There’s a secret here a grown man could not find!”. ![]() Prepare then to be amazed as Grace‘s nine spirits each fill your home with graveyard mist, creaky porch rocking chairs and silvery moons…then at no extra cost, shazam, come dawn no trace! Well, save for the odd punctured jugular. So much so I’d expect every trace of Grace & Lies‘ very existence to magically evaporate at first sunlight, just like dreams, vampires and Keith Richards. Make no mistake NYC duo the Family Band belongs to one thing only and that one thing is the night.
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