Eve is a six-part salute to unrequited love. Its eponymous vixen could be any unreachable woman (a veritable Estella, for all intents and purposes), but the first of her breed (and creed) honored by the staggering, industrial virtuoso, Adarcah Ianqu.
The conjugation begins in "the garden", an external chamber where emotions grow as adulterous vines, and among those vines are roses. With each note, one caresses a new prohibited petal, but in the throes of angled adoration, vines entangle and thorns prick.
The penultimate effect performs like "scorpions" that crawl from out Eve's teasing stretch, implanting the urge for gratification but alas, such never meets completion.
As a result, one's pangs blossom into virulent "tips" upon which one's bleeding heart dangles. The sounds here signal a warning, but no matter how many times the bell tolls, Eve bestows the same untenanted pledge.
This unadorned vow leans hard upon one's soul, and from its antagonizing weight, a "bonsai" cry sprouts. All the while, one's intrinsic shrub grows evermore uncouth with each nihilistic note, until the savage Eve yanks one's roots across a grating earth.
One begs for culmination (any sort of release), but the response carries more merciless ploys, and from there a "holy chain" emerges, strung by coarse chords, which snaps like a sarcastic whip.
With this, Eve forces one to "land", leaving one stripped in defeat, and beyond her provisional reality, she slithers to another. For the fresh fallen, her impact lingers onward within a remote, thirsty stream.
Hear Eve's forbidden fruit at
https://adarcaheancu.bandcamp.com/album/eve?fbclid=IwAR100mKd_zByRwBscD5L9UIhmEnmf2turrrksjSfBDX1aqeTkycPU8Oplc8
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