There is a precise sort of chaos within the architecture of Cries of Redemption and the new release “Abstract” that feels entirely purposeful, like a storm trapped inside a glass bottle. Ed Silva, the Savannah-based mastermind behind this project, isn’t merely writing songs; he seems to be conducting experiments on how much tension a melody can hold before it snaps.
Listening to tracks like “The Return,” one is immediately struck by the friction between the organic and the synthetic. Silva creates a hybrid soundscape nuance filtered through digital vocal modeling and the stark capabilities of FL Studio that hits with the gritty nostalgia of late-night grunge. The vocal textures here don’t just carry a tune; they vibrate with a specific frequency that reminds me of the hum of a high-voltage transformer box in the dead of winter. It is dangerous, buzzing, and curiously warm. However, Silva doesn’t navigate this isolation entirely alone; the presence of session vocalists Denisse Ferrara and Maria Duque adds a crucial, ghostly human layer to the project, preventing the digital precision from becoming too sterile.
When the album pivots to “An Eerie Feeling,” the mood shifts from angst to something more chemically unstable. The interplay between the delicate, sorrowful intro and the sudden wall of distorted aggression is jarring. It evokes the visual of a calm goldfish bowl shattering in slow motion a sudden violence that is somehow beautiful to watch. It is in these moments that the project’s experimentation with Post-Hardcore elements shines, balancing fragility with thunderous percussion.
Yet, Silva pulls back the darkness for moments of strange clarity. The title track, “Abstract”, and the heroic “Awakening” operate on a different wavelength entirely. These instrumental-focused cuts ditch the gloom for technical proficiency. “Cloud 9” utilizes the rhythmic chugging of Djent not just as a beat, but as a texture that feels tactile, almost heavy enough to hold in your hands. It captures that distinct rush of driving a rental car slightly too fast on an open highway at 2 AM, windows down, with the smell of asphalt and anticipation filling the cabin.
Even in “No More Google Translate,” with its aggressive, radio-ready Hard Rock drive, there is a lingering sense of miscommunication and frustration that feels universally human. Cries of Redemption isn’t trying to offer a polished pop solution to life’s problems. Instead, Silva offers a heavy, reverb-soaked mirror.
Does “Abstract” provide an answer to the questions it asks? Perhaps not, but it certainly builds a fascinating, distortion-heavy room for those questions to echo in.
