Indies Exclusive Limited Repress.
Reissue of debut solo album from Red Sparowes (Guitar) and Marriages (Lead Vocals/Guitar) member Emma Ruth Rundle. First single “Arms I Know So Well” premiered on Pitchfork.
Emma Ruth Rundle is a Los Angeles-based singer/songwriter, accomplished guitarist, and member of Red Sparowes and Marriages. Her first official solo album, Some Heavy Ocean, presents a collection of impassioned, cathartic songs, exorcising the ghosts of one of life's dark detours. Melancholic, but equally hopeful and accessible, the album wears its emotions on its sleeve. One critic described Rundle's voice as "bone-chilling texture filled to the brim with intent", and a better description is difficult to imagine; when paired with her compelling guitar playing, an enduring spirit takes root.
In 2008, Rundle was drafted into the monolithic post-rock supergroup, Red Sparowes. Touring the world playing the Sparowes' epic brand of instrumental heaviosity sparked a fruitful musical connection with fellow Sparowes guitarist, Greg Burns. When that band commenced a well-deserved hiatus in 2011, she and Burns (on the invitation of Russian Circles) instigated a new group, Marriages, who supported Circles in California and then promptly began recording a debut mini-album, Kitsune (subsequently released by Sargent House in 2012).
What followed was a "dark, difficult time", marked by family problems and personal struggles which, though exhausting emotionally, also incubated Rundle's conviction to use their inherent misery as fuel for expression. And so, in 2013, she literally moved into Sargent House's home studio in Echo Park, sequestering herself for two months while writing and recording what would become Some Heavy Ocean. Itself a taxing experience, the process of creating the album was fraught with problems and setbacks that, naturally, served to fortify its unmistakable air of sadness and desperation.
Which isn't to say Some Heavy Ocean isn't equally optimistic or compelling. An apt title if ever one existed, the album swells and crashes, waxes and wanes, ebbing and, yes, flowing - the way all great albums do. The songs twist and sway like kelp forests drunk on its amniotic tide.