Mistwoven by SUVERA

'Mistwoven' isn't just an album; it’s the sound of Mirith's eternal rain, a descent into streets choked with fog where every memory holds a price. We wanted to bottle that feeling of endless downpour, the way a city drowns in its own secrets, and see what truly endures. This isn't some abstract concept; it's Vela's relentless search for her sister, a visceral pull through a world where trust is traded like whispers on wet pavement. From the first sampled creak of a warehouse door, you're pulled into that unsettling familiarity, the comfort of recognition dissolving into the unease of everything being slightly wrong.

Musically, we let the water guide us. You'll hear these calm, almost aqueous soundscapes, but beneath that surface, the wiry guitars still cut sharp, and the synths ache with a melancholic hum, mirroring those moonlit tides and wind-whipped canals. We chased that tension between anticipation and reflection, the way hope ripples through a flooded alleyway. Recording some of this in places that felt forgotten, letting the natural hiss and scrape of breath come through, that wasn't just a production choice; it was about truly inhabiting Mirith. We wanted the drums to sound like they were tracked in abandoned subways, the chains to echo from old warehouse doors—to make the tactile grit as much a part of the sound as the melody.

The album traces Vela’s bargains with memory-brokers, the desperate exchanges for glimpses of what's lost. It's about how the Silkmanes weave their power plays into the city's very fabric, and how the Plait stitch stolen recollections into a dangerous new order. Each song is a step deeper into that labyrinth, from observing the elegant danger of their waltzes to confronting the stark reality of being hunted through flooded streets. There are moments of quiet introspection, looking through a shattered Traceglass, seeing fragments of a life that feels like a dream. Then there are surges of visceral dread, the vertigo of losing pieces of yourself in pursuit of what matters most, as the current threatens to wash everything away.

By the end, Vela stands at the city's drenched edge, transformed, accepting what she's become in Mirith's reflection. It's about finding that fierce resolve, that quiet strength, when memory, like water, refuses to be held. This journey, this album, it's our own reckoning with hunger and hope, raw and unyielding. It's for anyone who's ever fought until even the night starts offering answers. We didn't just write these songs; we lived them in the dark, rain-soaked corners of our minds, letting them spill out, imperfect and real. We hope you feel that.

Shadowy rhythms and velvet vocals guide you through neon-drenched alleyways where memory bleeds into myth. SUVERA's post-punk hymns for the lost souls hunting connection in the midnight hours. Feral elegance for the beautifully damned.