by Katie Hanford
On a hot and humid night during the summer of 2015, I witnessed the short and oh-so-sweet magic of Bruise in a North Philly basement. Their only release - a short demo compilation - quickly became a staple in my music rotation because of its magnetic energy and satiating bite. Disappointingly, those demos were all I was able to find from Bruise over the last few years, as they fell quiet soon after the show.
Activity on Bruise’s Facebook page in December alerted the world that their former frontwoman Lucie Murphy is back with a new project under the moniker Poise. Her first release is a self-titled EP as pretty as it is powerful, showcasing Murphy’s uncanny ability to produce music that is both haunting and energizing, a gift found within the space she creates amidst the noise. While her vocals swoon over the mix, peppering the underlying heaviness with a blues-tinged beauty, her guitar picks and drones its way through the controlled chaos. Crooning over a rambling beat of tom hits and meandering guitar pickings in the EP’s opener “Arrow,” Murphy warns us that “this sound has always been my own,” a truth we learn to trust as the EP continues.
Albeit only a snapshot of what Poise has to offer us, this EP proves its worth at the intersection of lyrical depth and sonic intrigue. Written like stuttered poetry, Murphy’s words probe deeply into the methods of surviving being a young woman in today’s world. The song titles themselves act as a summary for the message of the work: Seething emotions lurk underneath a calm, poised surface, that which we adopt to save face while battling troubles we encounter on the daily. It’s a stunningly self-aware release whose aural landscape is as relatable as it is dominating.