The New Eves

The New Eves have been on the radar around here for some time, an essential new voice balancing solstice and sorcery, folk and punk, dissonance and desire. Early in the band’s run of singles, I noted their sound as a caustic vision that wraps its wrists in the urgency of Patti and Siouxsie, with a dose of John Cale for good measure. With the arrival of The New Eve is Rising, the description still stands. The band burns sigils in the crossroads of pagan folk, post-punk, noise, and spoken word. They lace the loops between genre and pull them tight, though never into any neatened forms. There’s no macrame curios coming through in their tangle. The UK has seen a rise in new folk outliers, many looking to capture some sense of the old dose of Anglican air run through an experimental aura. A few are carving their own oaths into the wood (Daisy Rickman, Milkweed) while the rest circle the Maypole in search of raglan authenticity. The New Eves fall squarely in the first category, wielding an earthen power that few of their peers, save perhaps Rickman, possess.

Sawing at the listener with tattered fiddle and gnarled guitar, the band slips between dirt floor folk and ‘70s art rock tensions. The Eves utilize a chorus of voices, but rather than lean into sonorous harmonies and soothing tones, they seek to scratch the psyche, to wake the listener from the daze that keeps them docile. The band’s voices jockey for dominance, never agreeing, never relenting to one another. They chant and gnash and fight against the rhythmic pulse that thrums from the very core of The New Eve is Rising. Sometimes the world delivers an open-handed slap to the senses and at the other end of that palm are The New Eves.

Support the artist. Buy it HERE.