Still Cathedral from Marching Breath by Draoi

The clatter of dropped pints and shouted anthems fades, leaving behind a pub transformed into something else entirely. A lone voice rises from unseen wood, speaking a vow of rest as rally, a breath as banner for those who listen with eyes shut. What begins as a murmur, a whisper of solitary strength, grows into a collective tide. The track builds tension, the album's largest swell, with bodhrán rolls and surging floor tom rumbling beneath a droning Telecaster and the soaring tin whistle. Piano octaves and tambourine rolls join, crafting a gritty tenderness from familiar noise. It’s an interesting juxtaposition: the raw energy of our usual sound applied to a moment of hushed reverence. This piece is meant to feel like a slow, steady breath in the dark, a gentle lift from private worry to a shared, unbreakable calm. The mantra, 'Hold the line, close your eyes, we march when we breathe,' is woven through, then breaks into a layered harmony at the end—a soft avalanche of human voices, not shouting, but affirming. It’s a testament to belonging that doesn't need noise, expanding what Draoi can be beyond the sticky floors and into the quiet strength we all carry.

We've been raising hell across Ireland since our first gig ended in a bar fight and three broken strings. Our songs? Pure gutters-to-glory stuff—rebellion, heartbreak, and whiskey-soaked nights that blur into dawn. Punk spirit meets ancient melodies, delivered with spit and fire. Pure madness live.