Steeped in longing, Lucid Pyre’s Winter Lantern is a soundtrack to the halls of derelict mansions. Wandering through the filigreed corridors accompanied by fuzzed-out forlorn guitars and embedded vocals and percussion it is as if the album is buried under layers of dust, a sonic haunting or remnant of lost times. Lulls occur as if we have stepped into a room filled with a particular memory, gentle piano, or cleaner guitar before crumbling back into decay as we float onwards.
Like a blanket of fog, this is less an album of tortured misery than one of melancholy or loss, hanging thick and heavy but with an air of comfort, as if in acceptance. A spirit holding on to memories of its past life as its physical surroundings fall into decline.