Feature: Pisgah’s 'Faultlines' is a winter storm of a record — dramatic, intimate, and illuminated by flashes of emotional clarity…
- I'm Not From London
- Dec 13, 2025
- 1 min read
Brittney Jenkins builds each track with the precision of someone who understands both the architecture of sound and the fragile structures of memory. Written and recorded in her home studio, then shaped further by producer Dan Duszynski, the album feels both handcrafted and expansive.
‘Cumulonimbus’ opens with guitars that crash and ripple like weather shifting overhead. The song sets the tone for the album’s central theme: the way inherited trauma moves through generations, quietly shaping the emotional landscapes we grow in. Jenkins’ voice carries both ache and determination, landing somewhere between vulnerability and resolve.
‘Favor’ takes a darker turn. Through imagery of catastrophic breakdown — plane crashes, nuclear meltdowns — Jenkins captures the hollowing effect of living for someone else’s approval. Its tension builds slowly, leaving an impression long after the final note.
The album’s emotional peak, ‘Bone to Pick’, strips back the instrumentation to confront the aftermath of sexual assault. It’s raw, sparse, and necessary — a song that makes space for truth without forcing resolution.
Elsewhere, ‘5ft2’ softens the tone, offering a luminous tribute to the women who shaped Jenkins’ life, while ‘Splintering’ drifts like a cold midnight walk where everything feels fragile and half-real. ‘Bend to Break’ and its spiritual companion track introduce movement and renewal, shifting the album into a space of liberation.
Closing with ‘Song for Jason Molina (Cold Rain)’, Jenkins balances grief with reverence, mirroring the emotional exorcism at the heart of the album.
Faultlines is brave, beautifully constructed, and emotionally unflinching — a record that transforms darkness into something quietly luminous.
