David Cloyd—Red Sky Warning

David Cloyd has been an artist I've meant to dive into more deeply for a long time. Like me, it seems life threw a few curveballs his way, and his new album Red Sky Warning arrives 14 years after his previous release, I Could Disappear. That’s a long gap, but as I found out, well worth the wait.

The album opens with Ocean of Hours, a slow, almost anthemic track, steeped in sadness and longing. It's melancholy at its finest. I had to play it three times before I could bring myself to move on. The second track, If We Could Escape, lifts the tempo with a brighter, more upbeat feel. David’s music has drawn comparisons to Radiohead, Beck, and Peter Gabriel, but with this song, I couldn't help but think of Peter Schilling’s Major Tom. Not in a derivative way, but in spirit. Both tracks share a kind of floating, otherworldly momentum.

The Day Before brings us back down to earth, blending Radiohead-esque tones with a hint of Suzanne Vega’s acoustic introspection. That stripped-down, reflective mood continues in A Far Cry from Nothing and Cage of Water, although the latter introduces a darker undertow.

Drive With Me is a standout. It's upbeat and effortlessly fun, with lyrics that glide along like a convertible on a summer highway. Picture a sunny day, the person you love riding shotgun, and the whole world wide open in front of you.

Into the Sea dips back into murkier waters, both musically and lyrically, but David’s vocals carry it with grace. It’s the kind of song that’s heavy without being weighed down.

Climbing Ivy caught me off guard. It’s slow and wistful, and to me, it feels like a song about family, growing up, and the quiet weight of time. But then my wife, who was listening with me, said, “Ah, that’s so sad.” It reminded me how differently music can hit people. One line in particular stuck out: “It just happens when your verses rhyme.” David may not appreciate the comparison, but it instantly made me think of Rufus Wainwright’s World War Three and his cheeky line, “Don’t bore us, get to the chorus.” Lines like that walk a fine line. Are they clever or lazy? Genius or grating? Maybe I’m just being picky. Then again, I still twitch every time I hear Ed Sheeran’s “We push and pull like a magnet do.” Argh.

The album closes with Small Wooden Boat and Walk the Earth, both gentle, acoustic tracks. The latter, especially, has a lullaby-like quality that leaves things on a soft, contemplative note.

All in all, this is a beautiful album, and I really wish I’d explored David Cloyd’s music sooner. But better late than never. I have a feeling I’ll be listening to Red Sky Warning a lot in the months ahead.