Andrea DeMarcus had just graduated from Juilliard, and she didn't know what to do. “Juilliard wanted
you to have a certain kind of sound... I wasn't interested in playing just for the money or because it would
look good on my resume.” She returned from New York to Georgia, and started writing songs on guitar.
But the classically trained bassist was critical of her early writing and make-do guitar playing. That's
when a disheveled vagabond of a guitar player hopped off a freight train and into her life.
Dave Kirslis had been at a crossroads of his own; the musical projects he was involved in weren't giving
him a “big enough palate” for the way that his songwriting was evolving. Feeling directionless, he'd taken
to riding freight trains in search of the quintessential American adventure. One day, rumpled and covered
in soot, he jumped off a train near the house of a friend, where he met a wide-eyed and skeptical
DeMarcus. “I could tell by her eyebrows that... well I wouldn't say it was love at first sight.”
Despite the shaky first impression, the two soon found themselves spending a lot of time together. Kirslis
had found someone who could understand and respond to his new song writing, and DeMarcus had found
someone who could encourage hers and take the role of guitar player, allowing her to return to her
preferred instrument. And secretly, in the back of both of their minds, they thought that maybe they'd
found something more. Though their musical backgrounds couldn't be more different - Kirslis taught
himself roots music, while DeMarcus had mastered music theory and the nuances of counterpoint at
Julliard – they shared a sense of what music should be about.
Four years later, Cicada Rhythm's self-titled album meanders through folk, rock, Americana, and further
afield, but this shared sense of what makes music powerful binds all of the songs together. At the center
of their appeal is the mystery of how the interplay between two different sounds – whether it be the
spirited finger-picking of guitar dancing over the rising swell of the bass, or their voices layering into
sweet harmony – fills the space in between with meaning. In Cicada Rhythm, this space is explored with a
fervent intensity that is belied by the effortless elegance of the arrangements.
Perhaps the most striking interplay is the contrasting lyrical styles of the two singer-songwriters that
compose this band. DeMarcus' lyrics are opaque and mysterious, giving shrouded glimpses of the story
underneath and letting the listener piece the puzzle together over multiple listens. “Shadows Before You”
sets the listener in the eerie landscape of the Southern Gothic, where a troubling story hides behind every
darkened window. In “The Keeper,” the upbeat guitar-picking is overlaid by the ominous bowing of the
upright and melancholy twang of the pedal steel, giving an unsettling resonance to DeMarcus'
questioning: “Can't you hear the world crying out for you? Can't you feel the ground, holding, holding
you?”
In contrast, Kirslis' lyrics are more straightforward to interpret, but deliver a blow to the listener's
sensibilities with their heartfelt sincerity. He is a natural storyteller, and this talent shines through on “Ms.
Eloise,” a study in how the careful selection of a few telling scenes can convey the entire emotional
impact of a narrative. In “Werewolf,” we instead see a story used as an allegory for an age old internal
conflict: “Deny the demons in you, you can fight them nail and tooth/But you'll just find yourself, fighting
off the truth.” “In The Garden” is a playful romp through the surreal landscape of Kirslis' imagination,
filled with striking symbols reminiscent of the evocative power of Bob Dylan's imagery.
But the contrast does not end at lyrical styles: it extends into the composition and mood of the songs as
well. Kirslis' pieces seem to be permeated by a certain brightness, even when dealing with difficult
subject matter. The bewitching harmonies of “Static In My Dreams” pull the listener down a rabbit hole
into the unnerving uncertainty that lies beneath even the most resolute convictions. Kirslis delivers a
boisterous rock anthem in “Dirty Hound,” managing to make a song of devotion feel as wild and free as
any hard rocking hedonistic paeans.
DeMarcus' songs, on the other hand, possess an organic animism that breathes in the surroundings, a
desire reflected in the band's name. “Walking Late” brings to life a Southern summer romance, its tones
imbued with the heavy July air of Athens, GA. “I'm Sorry Charlene,” an ode to her dog, captures the
playfulness and confusion of a pet's perspective but still manages to impart an important truth about
dealing with loss.
Cicada Rhythm was recorded with acclaimed producer Drew Vandenberg of Chase Park Transduction,
who has previously worked with Drive By Truckers, Deerhunter, of Montreal, Toro y Moi, Kishi Bashi,
and many more. They recorded the album entirely using an analog tape recorder, giving