Hear the sirens call,
will we rise or will we fall
We’re the poets of the chaos,
writing tales of the dead
Crá Croí, the Cork-born duo whose name translates loosely from Irish as “heartache” or “vexation of spirit,” arrive like sirens from the fallout shelter, their signals smeared across a sky already split open.
This is music for two figures turning slowly where the ground gives way, bodies moving with calm awareness of the countdown. The palette is stark but supple: synthesizers drained of warmth, melodies sharpened to a blade’s edge, guitars alternating between clean incision and corrosive drag, vocals pitched to lodge themselves in the bloodstream. These songs court immediacy while staring straight into the pit, circling nihilism, love, destruction, nuclear dread, and dystopian collapse with a knowing curl of irony. They channel the thunder of Sisters of Mercy and the gothic splendour of Clan of Xymox and Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds in their sound.
RG, the architect of this collapse, works with an almost surgical restraint. Guitars strike like flashbulbs against night-locked eyes; synth lines glow with a hard, metallic chill, nodding toward the industrial body clock of the 1980s while sidestepping pastiche. CD’s bass voice drops in like a flare arcing over ruined terrain, singing doomed attachment as if broadcasting the final message from a dead satellite—close enough to whisper, heavy enough to bruise.
Lyrically, Fires At Dawn dwells in the pressure point between despair and resistance. CD crystallizes the band’s vision of beauty forged under collapse with that subterranean register. Across the verses, echoes, embers, and ghosts intertwine, fragile hearts dance in unstable light, broken dreams hang in cold air, misted horizons clutch the last traces of laughter. The song advances as an invocation for those still upright in the smoke, bound by stories, built to outlast.
The accompanying DIY video mirrors that intent. Planetary drift and stellar violence cut against a solitary dancer, body bending and breaking under surreal illumination. It plays like a pagan rite offered to indifferent elements, motion answering cosmos, flesh answering fire.
Watch the video for “Fires at Dawn” below:
With Fires At Dawn, Crá Croí extends their private cosmology of devotion under siege. It lands as reckoning and renewal in equal measure, a hard vow spoken at the rim of the world.
Crá Croí are currently working on their debut full-length album Tá brón orm (Irish for “Sadness is on me”), slated for release in 2026.
Listen to “Fires At Dawn” below, and order here.
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