An album titled “Roses” is clearly devoted to romantic gestures. Across the ten tracks of Widowspeak’s seventh and latest opus, intimate spaces and the stages of love are captured with a nostalgia tinged with sweetness. Candles burn in red glass vases while lovers draw closer on a leather banquette, as celebrity portraits watch over them like angels in a restaurant. Elsewhere, carnations are pressed into a black notebook and dancers embrace. Widowspeak is a band that explores strong emotions without taking itself too seriously. It evokes the sweetness, even the naivety, of a long phase of romantic obsession, as consuming as a romance novel. If music can be both naturalistic and dark, intense and lush, then that is Widowspeak. Roses may be Widowspeak’s most romantic album, but it is also the most deeply realistic: the scene is set not by dramatic openings, but by the profusion and repetition of everyday gestures. Small observations before, during, and after work: the ritual of serving water to customers, catching a cold on a day off. Dreaming of winning the lottery, or perhaps realizing you’ve already won. Here, love is a way of expressing what drives us, and Widowspeak suggests it can be the very essence of our existence. The light that illuminates the dark corners of a day, of a life. A reason to keep going despite the pain it can bring. Widowspeak is one of the most prolific bands of the moment, evolving with a quiet but ever-present energy. Molly Hamilton and Robert Earl Thomas form the heart of the band and are its songwriters. They have honed their sound for sixteen years, across a catalog of remarkable consistency. Among the many bands that emerged from the bustling New York music scene, they started out hauling their gear between now-defunct venues and their rehearsal space in the basement of Monster Island. Widowspeak is now a married couple working part-time jobs. Robert is a carpenter, Molly a waitress. Roses shows Widowspeak at its peak, drawing on timeless influences. The band’s magic lies, still today, in the interplay between Molly and Robert, each in their role: Molly’s languid, nuanced voice and Robert’s visceral guitar playing. At its core, their music is special because it is authentic: especially for those who create it. Fragile and fleeting, and yet so precious… like love itself.