Album Review: Moth by Quilt Club – A Gritty, Glowing Tapestry of Indie Rock
Let’s cut to the chase: Moth is one of those albums that sneaks up on you. It doesn’t scream for attention—it hums, buzzes, and occasionally roars in ways that feel deeply personal. Released in 2019 by Quilt Club, this U.S.-based band delivers a record steeped in alternative rock and indie vibes, but it’s not trying too hard to be cool. And honestly? That’s what makes it stick.
The album kicks off with “Velvet Chokehold,” and damn if it doesn’t grab you right away. The bassline from Max Dempsey groans like an old house settling into the night, while Alli Tauck’s vocals float above like smoke curling toward the ceiling. There’s something haunting about how soft her voice feels against the jagged edges of Lincoln Flowers’ guitar work. You can almost picture someone sitting alone in a dimly lit room, wrestling with thoughts they can’t quite put into words. This track lingers because it’s messy, raw, and real—like emotions you don’t fully understand yet.
Then there’s “Ocean’s Mouth,” which hits different every time I listen. Maybe it’s Taylor Hopkins’ understated delivery or the way Josh Ellis layers keys and percussion so subtly you barely notice until they’re gone. The song builds slowly, pulling you deeper without ever feeling rushed. By the end, it’s less of a song and more of an experience—a wave crashing over you just when you think you’ve got your footing. Weirdly enough, it reminds me of staring at the ocean late at night, wondering if the water will swallow you whole or set you free.
What strikes me most about Moth is its humanity. These aren’t perfect songs; they’re alive. They breathe, stumble, and recover in real-time. Producer Dan McMahon and Jeremy Koester let the imperfections stay, and mastering engineer Jack Shirley gives everything a warm glow that feels intimate rather than polished. Even the drumming by Gregory Debære has this loose, almost careless energy that somehow locks everything together.
By the time the last notes of “LAZ” fade out, you might find yourself sitting in silence for a moment, letting it all sink in. Sure, Moth isn’t going to blow up any charts or get blasted on mainstream radio. But maybe that’s the point. This album doesn’t need to shout to be heard—it whispers directly into your soul.
You know what’s funny? Listening to this record feels like finding a moth fluttering around your apartment. Annoying at first, sure, but then you realize it’s just looking for the light. And hey, aren’t we all?
