With the release of their self-titled debut EP, this Sydney indie-folk trio flaunt tender, vulnerable lyricism and lushly textured arrangements in an elegant collection that’s both haunting and buoyant.
There’s a deliciously dark undertone that diffuses the honeyed melodies here and Dust captures this perfectly as an opener. It trickles into play with gently layered guitars that sweetly camouflage a story of grief and longing, penned after the death of a school friend. It’s an apt illustration of Little May’s tendency to capture both immense melancholy and colossal hope within the one track and telling of a songwriting stamp that’s sophisticated beyond their years.
Hide is slightly more up-tempo but just as atmospheric. Duplicity and game playing are defiantly called out; (“Can you feel me count to three, no I won’t play your hide and seek”) and the song builds and rests throughout, often the most commanding in its quieter moments.
Midnight Hour continues in this vein described by the band as “an ode to the underdog”. Layers of bluesy guitars and delicate strings layer into a rich climax and sparing harmonies climb and soar.
The perfect pop interlude is present in Bones, possibly the most classically structured song here. The first line is powerful in it’s simplicity “There was this boy I fell apart to”. It’s a stripped back statement that’s succinct in its potency, painting a picture of heartbreak and loss even despite its sparkling instrumental layering. Then there’s Boardwalks, Little May’s recent SoundCloud sensation having garnered them plenty of much-deserved airplay. It’s likely to be the reason many seek out this EP and it’s a gorgeous closer.
It’s easy to see why Little May are fast becoming darlings of the Australian festival circuit with their distinctly unique brand of shadowy folk. With the launch of this mesmeric debut, they’ll no doubt be stockpiling even more hype for an inevitable full length release, hopefully in the not too distant future.