Ilajan is two sisters creating music with four hands – dreamy, intimate, floating between atmospheric folk, handmade pop, and cinematic ambient. The elder writes and sings, cradled by her omnichord. The younger composes on guitar, weaving harmonies. Samuel Jaccard, their long-time collaborator, wraps their songs in electronic layers and delicately crafted arrangements. Together, they build a world apart, where melancholy is tender, anger softens into kindness, and introspection becomes a whispered dance.
At the heart of the album lies Dawn, written in a single breath after a winter nap. The song captures a suspended moment – when daylight fades too quickly, bringing a sorrow that’s hard to name: the feeling of never quite doing “enough.” In Dawn, Ilajan expresses that ache but chooses, above all, to reach out to the night, recognising its beauty and necessity. “Let the moon hold our hearts till day,” they murmur. Learning to make space for rest. For darkness. For the unfinished.
This play of contrasts runs through the entire album. The lyrics explore heavy themes – buried anger, powerlessness, the struggle of simply existing – but always with a gentleness that cushions every blow. Where words cut, the music soothes. It evokes artists like Keaton Henson, Daughter, RY X, and Aurora: music that cradles without numbing, that comforts without denying pain.