Speaking from a point-of-view that will resonate with women everywhere, ORKID pinpoints that moment when there is nothing left to fight for in the relationship.

Funny how the sound of rain can be a universal artistic touchpoint: it is everywhere, and at the same time, unique to right here.

It has all the introspective elements: the consistent voice, and a hint of sadness; where the strength of of the moment and the soaring melody are there to remind us that nothing is forever.

This is a slow dance with your ride-or-die, with a ballad on the juke.

It is the sound of movement, of migration, of difficult choices, and easy ones; the sound of love, and after-the-fact analysis, painted with the brush of poetry and steel-string guitar.

The under-sketch of raw poise is still visible beneath the muted and scant contexture: simple beauty, served over a framework of vulnerability.

It’s a satisfying, introspective, and deeply original sound, extending the power of vocal cadence and western harmony over a ragged backdrop of overlapping phrases and syncopated orchestral ostinati.

Who are we, if we don’t define ourselves in contrast to something, or someone, else?