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Artist: Horses

Title: Every Dumb Thing I Ever Did

Year Of Release: 2025

Label: Ecstatic Recordings

Genre: Ambient

Quality: 16bit-44,1kHz FLAC

Total Time: 30:54

Total Size: 144 mb





Tracklist

1. Let's Be Quiet Together (02:50)

2. An Alibi For Something Else (04:04)

3. I'm Doing Fine (02:09)

4. Between The Wish And The Thing The World Lies Waiting (04:36)

5. Where Stars Are Drowning (03:16)

6. Yesterday's Gone (02:21)

7. The Name Of That Thing Was Sorrow (01:46)

8. Your Smile Is A Thin Disguise (02:59)

9. As Long As I Can See The Light (02:43)

10. Tequila Sunrise (04:10)





Horses is a beguiling new electro-acoustic folk project — a quietly radical return to the warmth and intimacy of the guitar in all its forms. Blending classical, acoustic, and electric guitars with Roland and Oberheim synthesizers and subtle layers of percussion, the album draws on the naïve melodic charm of early folk and the intricate beauty of finger-picking, refracted through a prism of modern electronic treatments and filtered through a homespun dream-pop lens.



The record roams through queasily romantic ballads like opener “Let’s Be Quiet Together,” pairing dulcet flamenco loops with naïve vocal drones and call-and-response synths; vaporous campfire reveries such as “An Alibi For Something Else,” pulsing with Balearic blues; and quietly desperate laments like “The Name Of That Thing Was Sorrow.” Each track creates a unique crepuscular sound world that aches with deep emotion — like a letter never sent or a half-remembered confession.



One of the album’s most quietly disarming moments, “I’m Doing Fine,” feels like a strange meeting point between The Durutti Column’s liquid guitar lyricism and Kevin McCormick’s melodic restraint. Built around a gently looping drum machine/guitar figure that hovers between fragility and confidence, the song drifts in a liminal space — half lullaby, half confession — its understated beauty capturing that uncertain calm that follows emotional turbulence.



There’s a wryness, too — a gentle rebellion against the clichés of lo-fi acoustic sincerity. A mischievous ear for an out-of-tune vocal or a subversive blast of Enya-esque pan pipes keeps the music playful even at its most romantic. The result is both nostalgic and quietly modern: a kind of post-folk romanticism where shimmering widescreen vistas evoke Leone-like tragedy, always balanced by hope.