Peiriant – Plant (2026)
The music of Plant, the new album by Welsh duo Peiriant, has travelled within them. Lyrical violin flows like inner thoughts. Droning synths keep songs moving. Slow folk guitar sets songs into motion with wondrous notes. All eight songs proceed with emotion and take their time, placing the listener in a reflective space and letting awareness of our inner world become a part of the listening experience.
On opener ‘Agor Llygaid’ (Open Eyes), Rose Linn-Pearl’s violin enters, expressing vulnerably, grounded by a pulsating soundscape of dreamy electric strumming, dark acoustic plucks, and droning synths through her husband Dan Linn-Pearl’s production. Rose’s cadence is one of devotion. Her strums speak of something deep within her, then, toward the end, rise up with tones of gratefulness. Gratefulness, maybe, to continually experience.
Moving outwards is ‘Pwrls’ (Pulse), which feels like the body aligning with the outer world. A Moog Grandmother synth bursts out electropop arpeggios that push the listener on a journey where sounds represent our sensory activation. Rose’s pizzicato notes travel along, unpredictable, replicating the exhilaration of experiencing the unknown. Her picking then morphs into eerie, majestic strums that pull the song’s point of view back close. Distorted guitars sprout out from low hums on the low end and help fortify the close perspective. A kick drum represents our pulse. Peiriant captures sentience through sonically embodying the lived experience. They do this throughout the eight tracks.
‘Song of Parts’ is touching. Rose’s rapid playing feels like we’re listening to a private conversation. Her pauses, then sharp strumming sounds like internal decisions; steady rises express coming into understanding. Her playing flows unbothered, accompanied by Dan’s folk licks, wrapped up in meditative drone synths.
On ‘Wrth y Bwrrd’ (At The Table), Rose’s improvisation is mournful, inspired by Dan’s sombre, straightforward guitar melody. Sounds of dishes and voices of a family skitter in. Dan’s progressions go from gentle to impassioned here, then into fingerpicking with the household sounds penetrating like involuntary memories. Rose’s violin hangs back, lets Dan and the listener have a moment to turn inward, and release any suffering.
Throughout, the duo support each other’s conversations, completely in sync. Their improv, forward momentum, and unpredictability continuously create stillness. In that stillness, Peiriant offers surrender to contemplation about ourselves and about the world around us. Album ender, ‘Pedair Cadair’ (Four Chairs), is a slow, sentimental song that builds to hopeful heights yet sounds like a return to what matters: home. Peiriant believes that our fate and future are tied to the world’s future.
Rather than help to escape to somewhere else, on Plant, Peiriantwants the listener to be in tune with the experiences in each song or in tune with each remarkable embodiment of what it means to be sentient.
Find out more about Peiriant on their Facebook, X, Instagram, Bandcamp and Spotify.
This artist was sent to us by Beast PR.
