Living among industrial wasteland and urban desolation, Kyle J. Reigle looked to the woods outside his Buffalo apartment for escape. Fairytales and folklore instill a fear of the woods, but Reigle is more distrustful of an unlit alley or the unknown abyss of sewers.
Cemeteries is goth-pop without the pageant of black make-up, pagan jewelry and capes; if you have the willingness to consider Julee Cruise's Floating Into The Night record as goth. Reigle looked to vintage horror films and a bit of the Badalamenti tenderness for inspiration. The Wilderness is a dancing death knell of arresting funereal organs and chilling synths.
Cemeteries is the dream pop transmitting over the truck radio of teenagers driving the dark labyrinth of outlying woods in a mountain town. It's the requiem to a sleep walk in the dead of night, bare foot across the pinecone bed of the forest. A surreal glow is on the fringes of each soundscape, while Reigle's whispered croon sounds as though it was sent up from the depths of a well.
Recorded in six months in the spare room of Reigle's apartment, The Wilderness seeks comfort in the unknown of the woods after determining the evil once kept there has followed us to the city. Cemeteries explores a curiosity in darkness that poses the question, "what if it's safer out there among the owls and coyotes?"
