Listening to De Profundis from Samana`s Ascension I`m reminded of Lera Lynn soundtracking True Detective Ray Velcoro`s descent into hell, and attempt at redemption. But then I ain`t no poet. I`m all Pop culture references. On the record Franklin Mockett`s playing, both electric and acoustic moves easily between Johnny Marr-like jangle and Spacerock solo. Bottle-neck slide, Duane Eddy tremolo twang. Sometimes a melancholy tugging on Americana tropes. Epic, aching, forest fires, and explosions of Shoegaze vapor. Sunset resonance. Birds and cattle in its distance. Blues mantras broken out at the golden hour. Barefoot in a sanctuary, somewhere in Wales. Franklin`s partner, Rebecca Rose Harris, has the voice of one possessed. She sings as if summoning a spirit. Allowing her to leap supernatural coloratura contralto octaves in the space of a single word. From a world-worn bass moan of desire, to emotional flights of dream-like states. Reliving reveries in the arms of phantom lovers. Bold. Confident. Intense. Raw. Uncompromising. From Nico`s femme fatale growl to sailing the stars with Tim and Jeff Buckley. Lyrically channeling the surrounding nature, letting go of the past, and falling in love. The latter as occult as Melanie De Baso`s I Feel You. A deep echo in me. When Ascension is lonely, it`s damaged. Rocking to and fro. Finding little comfort in hugging itself tight. Torch-ed songs. Doomed ballads pitched twixt Nick Cave and Lana Del Rey. In places, such as The Sky Holds Our Years, in it`s own way, it`s as strange and as haunting as Nora Dean`s Angie, La La. When Rebecca sings the line, “I`ve been here before”, I’m not sure if she’s invoking reincarnation, or stuck repeating a familiar mistake. Caught in the dance of a trance-like waltz on a lost highway.