Vivid in sound yet mysterious in view, Tamaryn often performs cloaked in sequins and fog. She vaults her voice from hissing depths into soaring counter-melodies against Rex John Shelverton’s towering guitar.  The two have collaborated for the past couple years in both New York City and on the west coast, releasing the lush and brooding  Led Astray, Washed Ashore  EP in 2008 (Troubleman Records) followed by  two seven-inch singles:  Weather War  (Hell Yes! Records, 2009) and  Mild Confusion / Light Shadows  (True Panther Sounds, 2009). What this amasses to is a primordial soundtrack oceanic in its depth. Whether crashing with a squall of shrieking guitar and tribal drums or washing out in melodic, sun-stricken esoterica, the sound always shimmers and densely swells with a tidal churn.

With Cranekiss, Tamaryn emerges from her past efforts in a way that’s inviting, warm-blooded, and shockingly direct. She’s made a big record, loaded with samples, synth triggers and processing that was missing from her previous efforts, pressed into service of a post-adolescent love letter to all the music that she and her collaborators (Jorge Elbrecht of Violens and Lansing-Dreiden, Shaun Durkan of Weekend) hold dear. Her most personal collection of songs to date, Cranekiss represents a long journey, and a new phase in Tamaryn’s music unfolding before you, a blood-red kaleidoscope of desire and late night abandon.

Lyrically, this is Tamaryn’s most personal collection of songs to date, and Elbrecht has placed her voice front and center across the entire record, elevating her presence like never before. Cranekiss explores dark rock, dance pop, and glistening melancholy with a uniformly commanding presence across it all, in stormy, unsettled brushstrokes that apply pressure behind Tamaryn’s words.