Damien Youth | 1997 | Bride of the Asylum

Folk | Singer-songwriter
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Link | mp3 | 320 Kbps

The case of Damien Youth is curious. With a career of over three decades and a large discography as an indelible registry of the way traveled, the scant information on the musician and the lack of diffusion of his work are hard to believe, particularly after one has weighted his material.
Bride of the Asylum is not only one of the true forgotten gems that can be found within his more than twenty albums, but also a criminally underrated landmark in the spectrum of subterranean music, from which Damien Youth certainly comes from. This is a record of a-temporal, a-historical folk, suspended in time; an album that has a universal character that is based, perhaps, on the simplicity of its sound, forasmuch as a good part of Bride of the Asylum relies on the most primary creative formula: a man and his guitar. And even when that format appears decorated –always with subtlety– by relying on different arrangements, Damien Youth's music never losts that trascendence.
On the other hand, whereas musically it is posible to trace some far references, such as Leonard Cohen, Nick Drake –in its most delicate moments– or even Syd Barrett –when it adopts a psychedelic character–, its the lyrical quality of Damien Youth's compositions what earns him a distinction, which involves the lyrics per se, his vocal performance and the amazing melodic lines that he weaves in each of the tracks of the album. There are no songs in Bride of the Asylum that don't stand out in this matter.

The genius of Bride of the Asylum glows by virtue of the pure honesty and genuine passion that Damien Youth puts in every second of this album. It is there, really, where the seed of a work as remarkable as this lies. —IMF

Clara Engel | 2015 | Visitors Are Allowed One Kiss

Folk | Singer-songwriter

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Reviewing albums like Visitors Are Allowed One Kiss implies several challenges. For example, its condition of unclassifiable limits the possibility of making analogies or to even sketch a rough idea that truly reveals its content. Sure, it is folk, but it is not exactly that, and even though it has some drone elements and a blues-y melancholy, it is not drone nor blues, neither. In this sense, the difficulty of classifying it reflects, indeed, one of the most obvious charms of Clara Engel's work: its originality, an attribute that forces one to describe her music in an ad-hoc manner.
"Apocalyptic" is an adjective that is usually associated to Clara Engel's music, but how could such quality be attributed to something so beautiful? Even though the sound of Visitors Are Allowed One Kiss is melancholic and bleak, rather than Dantesque, it is introspective. And this beautiful formula is ideally supported by, on the one hand, its decidedly minimalist spirit in the instrumental work –presided by Clara's own guitar– and, on the other, the singer-songwriter's extraordinary voice, that gives the music a depth that leaves you speechless. Regarding this last point, the outstanding lyrics should also be highlighted, as this is another element that tinges the sound of the record with an intimate atmosphere.
It is very difficult to choose words that are up to the quality of an album like this and that do not look like dirty scribbles that break its delicacy and sensitivity. But in sum, Visitors Are Allowed One Kiss is a majestic album that, imperturbable, deepens itself into a reflective, cathartic journey, a sign of an untainted honesty and a composition effort that stands out. Unbelievable. —IMF