Solemnity flows through self-reflection as lonesome riffs wave under a floating, quiet voice. Rosie Carney languishes out a prayer of healing as she sings “Awake Me,” one of her most recent releases.
She calls upon water, a restorative stream, to pass over an atmosphere of dry desperation: “Water it flows in desserts you have made/ Their surface breaks.” The prospect of watery rehabilitation, to a longing soul causes both renewal and destruction in these words, showing Carney’s ability to poetically capture what therapy really feels like, slowly rebuilding what was much easier to destruct.
Her words embrace the vulnerability many would try to hide in vagueness, but Carney keeps the Chorus simple: “Awake me; Don’t break me.” The shameless sorrow causes such tenderness within a listeners heart while delicate melodies hold those hearts just above crumbling.
Lamenting all the falling pieces of life, Carney cries:
“All the birds are falling to the ground.
All the trees are growing upside down.
We’re all holding on to something,
Holding on to someone else’s hand.”
At the crags of despair she stands, even the scenery obscures itself in her sight, but she clinches tightly an assurance of hope to come, and a sense of never truly being alone.
In her words she establishes a sort of kinship with those floundering in the same state of mental or emotional uncertainty, and she resolutely reveals the importance of expressing a need for others.
The young singer/songwriter of Hampshire, UK, openly shares her suffering without abandoning herself to a struggle with mental illness, capturing precisely the feeling of solitude and yearning that belies a turmoiled heart with out giving it over to despair.