Extra-cultural reviews by synaesthetes, symbolists, and strangers.
Wearing Hazel (a deceased ungulate’s head) on her back, Ryder Cooley seems to sing on behalf of many animal spirits as they are channeled through her murky folky vocals. On either side of Ryder (above), 2 ‘sisters of fate’ weave their sonic looms, harmonizing and pounding with mallet and throat, plucking and pushing with the warp and weft of their Shamaness’ tale.
Cooley, a captivating performer, seems at times to be almost floating outward toward the audience, temporarily evacuating her corporeal space so the souls of extinct beasts have room in the vessel of her body to fill as she sings them forth…
The weavereses range their sonic threads from metal strands to deep dark river folk and a teepee smokestack’s rippling tones. Hard and soft and summoned, the imagined animal spirits have a strangely sweet allure and sway us through the Ryder’s lips beneath her feathery lashes and inkwell eyes.