The Two Worlds feels completely intimate; an album recovered from the ashes of Brigid Mae Power's isolation. On her sophomore effort, the Irish songwriter doesn't seem concerned with being clever or sarcastic; she seems more content just letting the words come out. It's an album of confessions and often sparsely used instrumentals - backed by the musician's always soaring delivery.
In her dreamy, chorus-less songs, Brigid Mae Power embraces contradictions. She is both tough and vulnerable, assertive and hesitant, wounded and resilient. She writes songs that are structured like poems and delivered like prayers, with the words blurring hazily into the melodies. Sometimes the lyrics numb as they sting, but more often they capture a moment of emotional clarity.
Irish songwriter Brigid Mae Power makes folk music that can feel more like doom metal played on acoustic instruments, focussing on one motif and stretching it into slow, delirious shapes. And while her lyrics are careful and sharp, Power mostly crafts nonverbal hooks, howling along with the melody or elongating her words until they lose all meaning. In that sense, she resembles Jason Molina, particularly in the early 2000s, when he used the components of country music to build haunted drones that felt like the long fadeouts to more conventional records.