A lunar eclipse, astrologically speaking, has a way of shaking loose what we thought we had neatly packed away. Feelings go off-script. Old grief, old longing, old questions can come back with new force. It can feel disruptive, even chaotic, but that upheaval is often the point: something false or outgrown is being eclipsed so something more honest can emerge. The heart, under this kind of pressure, changes shape. In that brief, unsettling shadow, people sometimes find themselves a little cracked open, and therefore a little closer to the truth.
Just in time for the full Pink Moon, Marie Ann Hedonia’s intense Lunar Eclipse comes at you like a diary ripped from its hiding place and read through a blown speaker. This is an autobiographical record full of rage, revenge, and personal pain. Across five songs, she drags those feelings out by the hair and gives them names, faces, cut-and-paste samples, and a microphone. The entire album lands somewhere in a nightmarish no man’s land of slam poetry, musique concrete and grunge.
Anseka’s Song opens the EP with a hard stare and a persistent bad memory. Hedonia takes aim at humanity’s appetite for violence, that ugly little habit of dressing cruelty up as spectacle, and she sings within the disgust.
The track spills straight into Family Trauma, which lands even harder because there is no decorative distance between the experience and the expression. The droll, dissociative spoken-word passages rub against abrasive grunge textures like exposed wire against brick, and the friction gives the song its force.
Lunar Eclipse cuts deepest in the way it lets satire, bile, and exorcism crowd into the same cracked space. You can catch traces of Patti Smith, Alanis Morissette, and even Scott Walker at his most unmoored, yet Hedonia pulls those threads tight around her own fury. The EP carries the weight of unstable ground without ever sinking into self-pity. It is about what remains when loyalty thins, when love clears out, and when anger becomes the last plainspoken tongue left.
“My family was messed up, screaming fights, job loss, arrests, and it generally made me a pretty angry person,” says Hedonia. “I thought one day I would write this all down, maybe as a quirky memoir. Instead, life guided me to music, and so I channeled my rage and sadness into this EP. I want…to release these emotions for myself and for the listener.”
Listen to Lunar Eclipse below and order the album here.
Marie Ann Hedonia is a synthesist and composer working in the spheres of techno, synth pop, dark ambient, jazz, and more. Located in Baltimore, Maryland, she’s the co-owner and operator of the label, Paul and Marie’s Country Kitchen with her husband, Paul M’Olive. Hedonia’s work encompasses four studio albums and numerous collaborative efforts across the spectrum of electronic sound and genre.
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