Mariposa
Holy Ghost [CS; Bridgetown Records]

Madeline Johnston, tape sorceress of Denver’s Tinyamp Records, dropped a real stunner for Bridgetown this past summer, one that has segued itself nicely into Autumn with an unimaginably soft touch and reverb-soaked everything gently drifting down, down, down; to the ground, to your body. Or deeper, really, this is surface-digging stuff, ballads with a voice and a guitar, simple lyrics repeated in trance-like chants to get all the way under the skin. Paper-thin, bare-boned and beautiful, Mariposa at once seems like she is barely there while also having a miraculously robust and powerful presence. Her voice is a snowflake — fragile, complex, ready to melt. Guitar chords swaying gingerly between two chords are winds, rustling the leaves or rocking the empty tire swing. But none of it is quite as chilly as I’ve described either. Holy Ghost feels like a familiar place, a dwelling you’ve occupied for years, full of fleece blankets and fireplaces, maybe a photograph or two — tools are simple and sparse, there for survival and nothing in excess or unneeded. “Did you ever feel at home inside this house?” Johnston asks waist-deep into side-B, and it’s not exactly an easy question to answer, let alone comprehend.

Cerberus

Cerberus seeks to document the spate of home recorders and backyard labels pressing limited-run LPs, 7-inches, cassettes, and objet d’art with unique packaging and unknown sound. We love everything about the overlooked or unappreciated. If you feel you fit such a category, email us here.

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