“Velvet Sky” lands like a blazing comet streaking across the indie firmament, with Glasgow’s Empty Machines crafting an anthem for contemplative nights. Thomas Crawford and Jodie Helena sculpt their second single—both hauntingly gorgeous and sturdily resilient.
The opening strains are a siren’s summons to the elusive; it’s as if Florence + the Machine’s passion met The National’s brooding tunes. What follows is Empty Machines’ singular fusion—condensing intimate garage essence into a sweeping soundscape familiar yet novel.
Helena’s vocal—ethereal yet strong—commands attentiveness without insisting. It soars over Crawford’s adroit instrumentation with poise and weight, contrasting vulnerability against the duo’s DIY ethos permeating each chord and lyric.
Lyrically, “Velvet Sky” veils its melancholy in celestial metaphor. It wrestles with impermanence—passion fading to embers, dreams plunging Icarus-like from unshielded heights of hope. Listeners find themselves amid Hollowayesque visual poetry in shared human orbit.
For all its lusciousness, a raw edge persists; one can’t ignore the self-driven authenticity exuding from this track. This isn’t just served-up music—it’s crafted, layered like paint, by artists fully invested.
As the song crests, cradling us toward a conclusion feeling more beginning than end—one can’t help but feel part of something ephemeral yet eternal. Most enthralling is how “Velvet Sky” reverberates beyond silence—testifying to touchstones of love lost, life lived…beneath its namesake expanse.
With just two singles down, Empty Machines may be planting their flag early—but if “Velvet Sky” indicates what’s coming, we’ll witness them redefining “anthemic” in indie circles while igniting skies with their blazing talent.