Hauras

Hauras returns to the helen scarsdale agency for a second missive of blurred and broken song. the name translates from finnish as 'fragile,' and that remains an apt psychological space for the construction and composition of the glare of the nave. Howard Ryan, the san francisco citizen behind the hauras moniker, composed this album in seclusion during the second year of the pandemic. it's a crumpled album from a crumpled time.  ryan conjures his fragments of guitar, keys, scanner and voice as if they transmit from behind the radiator. his tone and dissonance appear amorphous at first, swollen with an emotional weariness; but through subtle variations on repetition, his songs dilate into existence. these remain adjacent to the rough-hewn smears of michael morley's gate and the idiosyncrasies of graham lambkin.  in his own words, ryan articulates the exact mood behind this album as such: "i have been interested lately in how our communities change during a time like this. relationships that are forged because of the crisis and those that have been abandoned. my work as hauras has always been focused on the psychology of society at the end of civilization, and now that the seams are not only loosened but tearing, this new music attempts to explore the sudden terror and extreme quiet that has become our every day."  inspired by lav diaz and cecilia vicuña