motel void

twins is the project of London-based musician, tattooist, and visual artist Loz KeyStone. After spending time in Northern Colombia working with the plant medicine Ayahuasca, he left South East London in late 2024. The experience reawakened an urge to write and sing – something he had suppressed for nearly a decade following the death of his father. Now based in a caravan on an apple farm in the West Country, KeyStone has been steadily releasing songs and homemade videos from his debut album Caravan.

What immediately caught my attention was the list of his inspirations – names that overlap with my own favorites, such as John Frusciante and Sparklehorse. That same blend of strange melancholy and beautiful sadness runs deep throughout Caravan, an eight-track debut that feels both raw and quietly luminous.

A clear highlight comes right at the beginning with Avoidance, led by a hypnotic acoustic riff that evokes early José González. Vocally, twins reminds me of 40 Watt Sun, a musician I’ve long admired for his emotionally charged minimalism, reminiscent at times of Songs: Ohia.

The following track, Feel Your Phone, shares a similarly stripped-back production. What really stands out here are the brilliant instrumental transitions – especially one around the 1:10 mark, which shifts the track into unexpected emotional territory. Life Forgetter is a little less accessible in terms of production, but all the more rewarding for it – it echoes the raw, haunting quality of Frusciante’s early solo work (Niandra LaDes comes to mind), with a grunge-tinged vocal that recalls the likes of Alice in Chains.

A Muted Thing once again showcases KeyStone’s skill on the acoustic guitar – his fingerpicking style frequently reminds me of José González, and the tone he draws from his instrument is nothing short of remarkable.

In the second half, Dust grabs attention with its folktronica-infused lo-fi beat and unsettling production. Paired with an urgent vocal delivery, it’s probably the album’s emotional centerpiece for me. That track is followed by another standout: Meant the World, which carries a strong Bill Callahan-like vibe. The sparse production lets the beautiful melody shine.

The five-minute title track Caravan offers a welcome change of pace – an ambient moment of stillness, reflection, and space. It works beautifully toward the end of the album, and I’d happily hear more of this kind of sonic exploration from twins in the future. The closing track Here, Away is stripped to the bone, featuring delicate acoustic strumming and a raw, near-screamed vocal. It’s a quiet storm of a song – and a fitting end to a record that manages to feel deeply personal without ever being self-indulgent.

 This review was made possible by SubmitHub

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