Widowspeak
Widowspeak are among the most productive and hardworking bands in the scene, which is currently simmering just below the surface. Molly Hamilton and Robert Earl Thomas make up the core of the group and are their songwriters; over sixteen years and with an impressively consistent body of work, they have refined their sound. A lot has happened during this time: for them, for everyone. As one of many bands that emerged from the fertile New York music scene, they began hauling their gear between venues that are now closed (Glasslands, Cake Shop, 285 Kent, Death By Audio, to name just a few) and their rehearsal space in the Monster Island Basement (now a Trader Joe’s). The highs and lows of a long career mean chaotic tours as road dogs across North America, flight gigs in São Paulo or Guadalajara, seven-week European tours… And then years of breaks in between, during which they focus on gradually building a body of work. Widowspeak is now a couple who work day jobs during their own "off-season." Robert is a carpenter, Molly is a waitress.
On June 5, 2026, their seventh album titled "Roses" will be released. An album with this title would deal with romantic gestures. In the ten songs, intimate spaces and phases of love are captured through a nostalgic, Vaseline-coated lens. Candles burn in red glass as lovers come closer on a leather bench. Prominent portraits look down like angels in a restaurant. Elsewhere, carnations are pressed into a black book, and dancers pull each other closer. Widowspeak is a band that plays with big emotions without taking themselves too seriously. The sweetness, even silliness, of an extended crush phase that becomes all-consuming like a cheesy paperback romance. Cars and their drivers serve as a means to talk about mutual dependency. And old love is replayed, soft as an old T-shirt. When music can be both naturalistic and noir, saturated and lush, then it is Widowspeak. They are a band that knows how to stage a scene.
These songs use intimate moments to tell of deeper soul pains: the restlessness inherent in modern existence, the waiting for something to happen. Or the feeling of being at odds with the role one plays in one's own life. "Roses" may be the most romantic Widowspeak album, but it is also the deeply realist: the stage is not set with dramatic overtures, but against the backdrop of the small things and repetitions of everyday actions. Little observations before, during, and after work: the ritual of pouring water for customers, catching a cold on their day off. Daydreams of winning the lottery or perhaps the realization that one has already won. Here, love is a means to talk about what drives us, and Widowspeak suggests that it can be the real meaning. The light that illuminates the dark corners of a day, a life. A reason to keep going, despite the pain it can cause. As the title track says: Not all thorns will prick you, but you'll still feel the first one. And now you're not growing roses anymore because that one still hurts... I want to be the one.
Perhaps time has given Widowspeak the ability to grow slowly; "Roses" is uncut and all the more beautiful for it; left a little wild as it stretches its new shoots in all directions. Already with the first chords of "The Hook," you can hear how far they have come: the path is clear, the sky is brightening. The band feels comfortable and takes its time. They recorded the album last January at the Old Carpet Factory on the Greek island of Hydra: a studio in an old house, hidden in the steep hills of the village. It is quiet there in the winter when all the tourists have gone home. Long-time tour members Willy Muse, John Andrews, and Noah Bond are here as musicians. "Roses" was then brought home and gradually, gently reworked before being expertly mixed by Alex Farrar at Drop of Sun Studios and mastered by Greg Obis at Chicago Mastering.
"Roses" is Widowspeak at their best, inspired by timeless influences. There are hints of dream and power pop, a bit of Stones, perhaps some Petty, open and languid ballads with the twang of a roadhouse band à la Lynch… Perhaps you can also hear REM, Yo La Tengo, or Cat Power. A bit of Neil Young in Hamilton's allusions to working in the diner. The magic of the band still lies in the interplay between Molly and Robert in their two main roles: her languid, multifaceted voice and his instinctive guitar playing. And as a producer, Robert captures the fleeting magic of a band finding a song in the studio: something that still carries traces of the immediacy of Molly's voice memos and the dense guitar weavings of the demos. The rough traces of the tools are still clearly visible, the noise remains intact.
"I must not hold on too tightly, or I will have nothing left, like a candy that melts in your hand." While the album closer "Hourglass" contemplates the transience of everything, it underscores what is most truthful about Widowspeak. At its core, their music is something special because it is real: especially for the people who make it. Fragile and ephemeral, yet precious… like love itself.
On December 2nd, Widowspeak will come to the Hebebühne.
Doors: 7:00 PM
Hallo, ich bin Maya.
