motel void

Having spent about four months working in Seattle myself, I’ve developed a personal connection to the local music scene. So I was glad to come across Old Man of the Woods, an experimental electro-pop project from the Emerald City, led by multidisciplinary artist Miranda Elliott.

Her second album, Tendrils, opens with the five-minute track Amber, which – much like the album cover, a black-and-white image combining an old house and a human skeleton – sets a distinctly dark tone. It immediately reminded me of some of my favorite artists like Grouper or Midwife. Though Elliott is based in Seattle, she recorded Tendrils during an artist residency at Culterim Gallery, located in a former lakeside sanatorium in Biesenthal, Germany. The album is released via the New York-based label Totally Real Records.

The second track, Anticipating, leans more into electronic textures – almost danceable, but not in the way we associate with mainstream radio. Rather, it evokes the feeling of stumbling into a hidden, underground club at 2 a.m. and experiencing one of the most memorable electronic sets of your life. Still, Anticipating remains minimalist, with Elliott’s vocals gliding beautifully above the pulsing beat.

That the album won’t follow a uniform pattern becomes clear with Anonymity, an evocative track with an instrumental part that feels like wandering through an old, run-down fairground, reminiscing about childhood moments on the swings. The vocals start off more present and melodic than on the previous tracks and are eventually joined by ethereal backing harmonies, creating a haunting atmosphere.

Just yesterday, while walking to the lake on a scorching day, I was listening to one of my favorite bands, Have a Nice Life. The atmosphere of Tendrils felt strikingly similar. And now, with a thunderstorm outside and heavy rain soaking the landscape, this music somehow fits even better.

With Jellyfish, we’re pulled into an underwater world – as if swimming through sound itself. The album’s highlight is, for me, the nine-minute Abide. It opens with a sharp, aggressive bass synth that wouldn’t feel out of place on a Nine Inch Nails track. The song is deeply hypnotic – you find yourself anticipating where it will break. Around the five-minute mark, the tension rises, the atmosphere turns chilling, and distorted synth hits crash in, soon followed by a dance beat that elevates the whole experience.

The record closes with the more experimental Meditation, built around a precise lo-fi beat, over which Elliott sings in a ghostly, floating voice. As Tendrils drew to a close, I remembered where it was recorded. I wondered whether the building on the cover is the former sanatorium itself – after some googling, it appears it might be. That detail only deepens the impression: listening to these tracks feels like walking the empty corridors of old, abandoned buildings, trying to piece together a history you’ll never fully know.

 This review was made possible by SubmitHub