Madeline Johnston has the undeniable spirit of a road-weary traveler from decades long past. Criss-crossing the U.S. on elusive tours that may only be discovered by being in the right place at the right time, her performances silence the rooms they take place in, leaving all other details to fall out of focus. Working with acoustic instruments, pedals, field recordings, cassette tapes and her lone voice, these twelve songs softly ring out across New Mexico's powdery sands and slowly descend into the great plains between Santa Fe and Denver. Holy Ghost is Johnston's most fully realized work to date, an expansive album divided in two complementary halves over an hour long.
These stories come from a private place: the burdening recollections of endless highways, innocent roadkill, eulogies for overdoses, and misplacing oneself. In quiet solitude, Johnston captures the mysterious aura of becoming one with that strange netherworld where the desert, prairie and mountains converge. Gray skies ahead and a blurry horizon flanked by farms and wooden fences, journeys along abandoned trails into hills long untouched by humans. Is all this traveling the illusion of reflection, or are you finding yourself for the first time?