The Mariannes, an ‘alt-folk group…with a rock edge’ (description courtesy of their Facebook page), pour every ounce of their collective musical melancholy into the four rather despondent songs on this EP.

From the tentative picking of the guitar at the beginning of the first track, Ache In My Heart, it is evident that these are not going to be exuberant party tunes. The almost faltering plucking seeps into a more rolling, rhythmic mixture of an acoustic guitar, a tambourine, and the thud of a bass drum. There is a decided hue of country singer sorrow in the alliteratively-named Lisa Loughrey’s vocals. She sings of rising with the sun and “an ache in my heart.” She employs an archaic, faintly religious use of language with the words “when I lay me down”, which echoes the slightly sinister “as I lay me down to sleep” of the childhood bedtime prayer. Weariness leaks from every syllable, and there is a sense that she is poking at a scab, rather than licking a fresh wound. Her voice is mournful, yet soothing, and the lyrics hint at gossamer-veiled inner turmoil and agony. She yearns for a healing which one suspects may be some time away. There are some woozy guitar licks soundtracking this woman who has seemingly been hobbled by heartbreak. The song fades out with Loughrey elongating the vowel sound in the word “heart”, and listening to these lyrics imbued with pain, and the singer’s anguish mingled with resignation, this is a track to blare whilst sobbing under a duvet, curled in the foetal position.

Second track, Mama Please, opens with a plaintive, almost childlike cry of “mama, please.” There is a momentary shift in tone from country balladeer to a woman wrapped in a shawl at an Irish wake circa 1893, before the setting swiftly switches back to the harsh surroundings of a contemporary female struggling to keep afloat. Singing in her own Irish accent (which tends to be preferable to insipid, mid-Atlantic twangs), Loughrey bleats about needing a place to stay, tormented by the looming spectre of an irate landlord. Although she has an Irish accent, this is apparently a bleak American setting, with “dollar bills on the floor.” The song’s protagonist is stalked by “a man on a black horse”, who might be the Grim Reaper, but could also be the sharply-dressed ghost of Johnny Cash. The lyrics appeal to the mother’s sympathies, with the reminder that this woman is “your only living daughter.” Evidently, mother and daughter have been estranged for some time, possibly as a result of the daughter’s implied unsavoury lifestyle. The daughter’s pleas are soundtracked by a somewhat maudlin guitar, and the song ends without any comforting response from the mother in question.

Penultimate track, God Fearing Woman, begins with a count in. The drumming is taut as Loughrey’s accusatory tone addresses an unknown antagonist who “left me on my knees.” The lyrics throughout are flecked with bitterness and self-pity, and Loughrey orders this alleged scumbag to “go back from whence you came”, an old-fashioned, eloquent turn of phrase. The singer ruefully recounts her disdain for those who warned her about this person, in the grand tradition of folk singer regret. She charmingly invokes the “four and twenty blackbirds” nursery rhyme in the chorus. After what appears to have been a painful period of self-examination, the singer views herself as a liar now. Like Ache In My Heart, this track closes with an elongated final word, as Loughrey stretches “me” to its desolate conclusion.

The final track, Lost With All Hands, begins with a sweet, delicate piano piece which marks the first time for the tinkling ivories on this EP. Joe Maher’s guitar here is on the cusp of drifting out to sea as it accompanies more melancholy-doused lyrics. There is chaos ahead, with the band “heading for the eye of the storm”, and the lethargic pace of the guitar offers mellow respite from this gloomy future. The song focuses on a ship lost at sea, unbeknownst to the world, and with “no signal flares”, it is in an even more hopeless predicament than the Titanic. It fades out with the re-appearance of the soft, sad piano, closing the EP on a note of the sorrow that has been prevalent throughout.

Overall, it’s an enjoyable record, with some elegant lyrics and gorgeous guitars, but it’s a bit too reliant on threadbare, maudlin themes. Still, this is a talented, sophisticated group of musicians, and they’ve produced an EP which, although gloomy, embraces the complex, messy spectrum of human emotions. They’ll be launching the EP on Whelan’s Main Stage on 9th April.