Tidekeys by Mytheon

We spent so much time on the Slipmantle, watching the Shedding Wind work. It’s a strange thing, seeing coastlines remade not by violence, but by something closer to a slow, patient peel. That feeling, that life can reshape itself with a quiet, persistent grace—that’s what *Tidekeys* really became for us. It’s an album about letting go of old weight, finding new names for things that used to hurt.

We dug deep into the Moltstone Chronicles with the Mortiscribes, these ancient etchings that speak of things dissolving into silt, then reforming as something new, something kinder. Those became our tide-keys. You hear it in the music, how the balafon and bowed lyre trace those warm counter-melodies, how the guitars bloom in these patient, singable arcs. It’s not about grand, shattering crescendos; it’s about a steady lift, a soft, unwavering light that builds without abrasion, then settles into this deep, ordinary calm. We wanted it to feel like breathing easy after holding your breath for too long.

We spent cycles with the Drowners, witnessing their quiet struggle to unmoor old pains. When they finally release those hoarded names to the wind, you can almost feel that collective sigh. The music just *shifts* then, a sunrise riff breaking through like stepping onto solid ground after a long ferry ride. It's that moment where grief finally lets go, opening into a shared, breathable horizon. And that chant we captured from the Sibs, "Leave what you were; keep what you are"—it became an anchor, a simple truth that resonated so deeply, we had to let it rise and carry the whole thing. It’s a mantra, really, a reminder we all need sometimes.

This album isn’t just another journey through The Mawring; it’s an invitation to see change not as a threat, but as an act of care. We’ve always chased the pulse of vanished gods through sound, but with *Tidekeys*, we listened closer to the silence between the waves. We let the cavern reel tape whisper ancient memories, blended field recordings of ceaseless surf and festival hum not just as texture, but as another voice in the choir. It’s a more intimate approach, letting those harmonically rich layers unfold slowly, finding the quiet strength in gentleness. We've tried to make something that feels as old as the Mawring itself, but speaks to right now, to how our own stories, our own myths, keep changing and renewing. It’s a hope, etched in sound, for a kinder way forward.

From the ruins of forgotten temples, we craft wordless stories in sound. Five musicians weaving post-rock crescendos with ambient valleys. Our compositions breathe like ancient tides—fierce then gentle, building textured landscapes where listeners find their own myths. The Mawring awaits.