by maud the moth

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    Cover and lettering by french calligrapher Charles Boisart (Le Scriptorium de Cassiodore).
    Inlay and booklet designed by Amaya Lopez-C with material from August's Strindberg "Celestographs".

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    Gatefold LP with golden hot-foiled cover and heavyweight vinyl.

    Inlay designed by Anna Frigati.
    Cover and lettering by Charles Boisart (Le Scriptorium de Cassiodore)

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Ecdysis 08:34
Dig deeper into your bedroom burrows for the ingrowing splinter you blossom around. She wakes you up from your bed to sleepwalk you, over the palm of her hand. I’ll wear my shiniest smile to confront her, but she´s a black hole swallowing all light. You said: “I am yours to save, from the scavenging birds that nest in my chest”. You said: “All I have I’ll share; from my dinner to the last breath inside my grave”. Sleep my dear. Your need dug into me for a place to belong. You picked all of my locks till I was empty, till there was nothing left, till I was broken, despoilt. As she quietly holds your remains close to her breast, you´d trade Ariadne into the maze, to see her smile again. Island heart adrift, reclaim all my soil just for your seed, to feel it all again. We promised we wouldn’t make the same mistakes. Oh! Atlas shoulders, this dome is too bright for our spines. Weaving and weaving and weaving and weaving and weaving and weaving ​perfectly embroidered words ​​over my shoulders as a perfect cloak, ​​​to disappear below. Oh! Atlas shoulders. As the sky cracks, you can finally see your creator crawling on her knees.​​ Oh! Atlas shoulders.
Inside the mirror, there is a door. It’s round and black, and it grows and grows. Clawing at the frame, the ground feels soft. Uninhabited bodies in the circular void. Houses filled with holes to fall through. Houses filled with homeless memories. I undress my skin, from its shellac forceful kiss. I can move amongst the crowds, like the wind between the forest canopy. Say that I’m real. I undress my skin. Say that I’m real. I undress my skin. I’m just an echo rustling the foliage.
Golden in-gravity. Held by silken strings. Ruptured cocoons. Below the stairwell.
The abattoir 06:17
Hold me tightly, curse my elusive grip. Once I said yes lightly, now you clench my broken reins. A car park ballroom. A forested abattoir. A snapped new shoe strap. A silent wife. “And how afraid we were, when we were small, of Mormo: She had huge ears on her head, Walked about on four feet, And was always changing faces. But when you mounted your husband’s bed. You forgot all about those things, All you heard from your mother” – Erinna, “The Distaff” ( IV B.C.) - Like wet flour I will knead you. And your bowl will brim with tears. By my hand unholy vessel, what is broken never heals. Before the dawn you’ll bear my name. My fingerprints like strings of pearls. Your nacre flows below my blade. Sediments of pain. Like wet flour I will knead you, WOE. Like wet flour I will knead you, WOE. Like wet flour I will knead you, WOE.
Finisterrae 06:01
At the crossroads we divide. Past the doorway we leave behind, all but what we cannot hide, and we’re left barking in the dark. Unmarried and barren. Dug out your shell with brittle nails and you cracked; open, exposed and decayed. But inside you flowers a garden. And inside the font swims a water bird. And inside it a thousand promises; oval unbroken worlds Underwater, golden threads weave your name on the waves as they crash on the crags.
Lyrics: I put the scepter in your hand and picked one truth. You wrap me round your finger like a price, you queen dethroned. A sleight of hand, a second chance to grasp the dreams you were denied. Flicker of hope, prosthetic self. I put the scepter in your hand. You carve me bone of your bones, ivory. A mantle laid at your feet, ultramarine. You weave me thread of your thread, Penelope. Buried in gold leaf. High on your crown I put a scepter in your hand. Hight on your crown. I put a scepter in your hand.
At the bottom of the well. On the spider’s web. Molten wax rolls down her cheeks while the pyre engulfed her old body. And at the bottom of the well the mourners wave the last goodbye. Behind their veils they grin, ratcheting teeth sing through the smoke: “Take my body, bring me back my innocence, from the abyss of the underworld where the table’s laid” And he will devour. It. All. Soar away, over the guilt and pain. You opened the door to his army, don’t you cry now, child, now soar. Away. High over the city walls. Soar away.
Epoxy bonds 04:00
Turned sides until I lost my soul. Washed my own contour into the perfect foreign glow. Had my ends divided, all dirty and swollen up. We became the beggars, of crowded thoughts and perfect speech. Dragged my ink stained limbs across the white canvas of guilt. Following lies I found I different truth. Under the same sky. Over the ocean’s indigo slab. And without words she whispered “I will hold your hand, as you held mine in the forest and the stone hall. And your chest will glow. And the entrails of the animals and the grass below your feet will curl around your naked toes. And you will sing about it all when I am gone”. Givers of grace


released June 25, 2020

Vocals, piano, celeste, synths, psaltery and percussion: Amaya López-Carromero.
Drums: Paúl González.
Guitar: Guillaume Martin.
Violins: Alicia García.
Cello: Iván Caramés.

Music and Lyrics: Amaya López-Carromero.
String arrangements: Alicia García.
Drum arrangements: Paúl González.
Guitar arrangements: Guillaume Martin.

Drums recorded by Jaime Gómez Arellano at Orgone studios, UK.
Vocals and strings recorded by Amaya López-Carromero and Guillaume Martin at Sonorous Studio, UK.
Pianos recorded by Amaya López-Carromero and Roderick Buchanan at the Reid Hall, UoE, UK.
Strings in The abattoir, Finisterrae and As above so below recorded by Iván Caramés at La Casa Encendida, Spain.

Mixed and Mastered by Jaime Gómez Arellano at Orgone Studios 2019.
Cover art and calligraphy: Charles Boisart
Inlay and additional art: Anna Frigati

\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ 𝗥𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗘𝗪𝗦 \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\
"There’s so much music to discover in this digital time and age that it’s easily to miss out on hidden gems. Please don’t sleep on Maud The Moth’s Orphnē, as it’s a strong contender for one the most mesmerizing, unique and dreamlike albums of the year. Revolving around Madrid-born Amaya López-carromero, her alter ego, Maud the Moth, is firmly rooted in dark prog, as well traditional folk, jazz, classical, avant-garde, and chamber music.
Drawing a connection between personal life experiences, while "addressing the inheritance and circularity of trauma of South European women and culture" too, Orphnē is a haunting yet very heartfelt musical affair that will lure you into an art-deco inspired netherworld. A surrealistic journey, also heavily steeped in late romanticism, that sets the scene for exploring emotional paralysis through a very dark, mythical approach - lyrically and musically, and without any sugarcoating.
Though fostering a sense of desolation and alienation at times, Orphné always offers catharsis, and even evolution - growth. Don’t be afraid and dive headfirst into your subconsciousness with Amaya and Orphnê as your spiritual guide. See you on the other end." Walter Hoeijmakers, Artistic director Roadburn Festival

“… Orphnē’s mixture of heavenly and hellish elements yield a striking and unique outcome ”
Prog Magazine

“The range, deftness and outré worldview often bring to mind Tori Amos – albeit a strange, gothier, parallel universe incarnation…”.
Metal Hammer UK

“… Ecdysis” de ocho minutos y medio que le voltean a uno la cabeza de tal manera que no queda excusa alguna para no sumergirse a fondo en un disco tan bello como perturbador. 9/10”

“How Orphnē has such breadth is simply beyond my comprehension.”
Everything is noise

“This album is a masterpiece. 10/10”.
Bring the noise UK

“This is the magic of Maud The Moth's new single "As Above, So Below.”… In each listen there is something new unearthed from the fertile sonic soil”

“The music speaks for itself, and it is quite astounding.”
The progressive aspect

“ Worth every moment. ”
Merchants of air

“…a whimsical and foreboding collection of haunting and umbral arias…Orphnē is inspirational.”
Soundscape Magazine

“Maud ouvre un monde, … où passer nos pas songeurs, nos nouveaux lieux de naissances fait de poésies sonores, de jeux de voix et art des mélodies qui font mandalas, qui font kaléidoscopes.”
À découvrir absolument

“this unearthly work is simply indispensable. Let your mind wander and enjoy. Brilliant.”


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maud the moth Edinburgh, UK

𝔐𝔞𝔲𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔱


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