ROSETTA WEST'S 'NIGHT'S CROSS' AND THE ART OF EMBRACING THE SHADOWS

There’s a certain kind of album that doesn’t just ask to be played. It slithers out of your speakers, dims the lights, and starts rearranging the furniture.

There’s something deeply untrustworthy about a world that insists on constant brightness. You see it everywhere -- social media feeds curated for maximum dopamine hits, pop songs scientifically engineered to be forgettable, life coaches telling you to manifest your dreams instead of confronting your nightmares. But some things live in the shadows for a reason, and Night’s Cross, the latest from Rosetta West, is proof that the best music doesn’t need to come with a ring light.

Recording from what I can only imagine to be a wonderfully creepy house in the Illinois countryside (the kind real estate agents would optimistically list as "full of character") Rosetta West have delivered an album that doesn’t just embrace the dark; it moves in, signs a long-term lease, and starts levitating you while you sleep. Night’s Cross is the kind of record that feels discovered rather than released, like an artifact from another time or another place (maybe even another world.)

WALKING WITH GHOSTS

While their previous album 'Labyrinth' occasionally let in rays of light, 'Night's Cross' embraces darkness with the enthusiasm of a teenager discovering Gothic literature. But that’s not to say it’s some overwrought, self-indulgent descent into gloom. There’s a confidence here, a sense that the band isn’t drowning in the darkness but rather navigating it with ease. It's part blues, part rock, part whispered séance. But less "woe is me" and more "pull up a chair, let's talk about death."

From the opening track "Save Me," which somehow manages to marry mongolian-throat singing-esque aesthetics with American blues (a musical combination that shouldn't work but absolutely does), to the hypnotic rhythms of "Desperation," the band weaves a tapestry of sound that feels both ancient and immediate. This is a really cool fucking band. Joseph Demagore doesn’t just sing; he exhales these songs like incantations, each note heavy with history and Jason X's bass work adds the kind of depth that makes subwoofers question their life choices, while Nathan Q. Scratch’s percussion feels less like keeping time and more like pulling the strings of something unseen.

MUSIC THAT STARES BACK

The real magic of Night’s Cross lies in its refusal to do what’s expected. The whole album's narrative threads wind through territory both familiar and strange. I mean, Alligator Farm alone presents itself as a blues rocker about reptilian romance (because why not?), while managing to feel simultaneously hilarious and deeply unsettling. This could have been a straight-ahead blues-rock stomper, but instead, it twists itself into something stranger -- grinning, menacing, and weirdly seductive. (Who knew replilian romace could be sexy). It’s the kind of song that belongs in the backroom of a bar where the bartender doesn’t ask questions.

"Cold Winter Moon" and "Oh Death" form a conversational duet with mortality that feels less like traditional blues memento mori and more like an actual negotiation with death itself. Even Mary (Mary Christ?) makes an appearance, carrying enough Biblical weight to make Leonard Cohen nod in approval. The whole album carries this energy, like it knows something you don’t, but it’s in no rush to explain. It's incredibly charming.

The album builds upon Rosetta West’s blues-rock foundation but pushes further into the hypnotic and the mystical in songs like ‘Dora Lee’ and ‘You’ll Be The Death Of Me’. Swirling organ tones, searing guitar solos, and haunting vocal lines. The whole thing feels like a fever dream you half remember when you wake up. And I can't stop listening to it.

DELIBERATE OBSCURITY

In a music industry obsessed with visibility metrics and social media presence, Rosetta West's steadfast independence feels like a quiet revolution.

Their one collaboration with Alive Records stands as their sole concession to the mainstream, like a brief handshake with the modern world before retreating back to their musical cabin in the woods. I truly have a sort of perverse joy in how completely Rosetta West rejects the modern music machine. They don’t chase trends, and they sure as hell don’t care if their songs make it onto your “Vibey Chill Blues” playlist. This album exists entirely on its own terms, a rare breed in a world where every note of a song has to be A/B tested for maximum virality.

'Night's Cross' isn't an album you put on at parties (unless it's a very specific kind of party, in which case, invite me next time). It isn’t here to make friends. It’s here to whisper in your ear, pour you a drink, and make you question whether that shadow in the corner just moved. It’s a record for anyone who’s ever found themselves staring into the void and wondering if it might have a good story to tell.

Rosetta West reminds us that some of the most powerful art comes from following your own strange star, even if (especially if) it leads you into the darkness. Just remember to bring matches -- you might need them for the ritual.