I first became aware of Emma Ruth Rundle in 2018 upon the release of her album On Dark Horses. But after that moment, I started realizing just how ubiquitous she is. Because of course, that wasn’t the first time I had heard her work: I had been a fan of her instrumental post rock band Red Sparowes for some time. And since, I’ve realized how many of my favorite bands she’s toured with. I’ve spotted Emma Ruth Rundle shirts at almost every heavy show I’ve gone to since. Not to mention the numerous collaborations she’s made during the pandemic (notably, with Thou and Chelsea Wolfe).

For all her omnipresence, she is also incredibly multifaceted, whether she be creating cinematic soundscapes with Red Sparowes, conjuring atmospheric noise from her guitar in her former side project Marriages, trading volcanic riffs with Thou, plucking psychedelic folk with nocturnes, or fusing folk-influenced songwriting with post rock’s ambience and metal’s severity in her solo project.

But Engine of Hell shows a side of Emma Ruth Rundle that hasn’t been showcased much before: that of a stripped down singer/songwriter. Where much of her solo work has found her accompanied by a fiery backing band, much of Engine of Hell finds her alone with a piano, an instrument that hasn’t been featured much in any of her musical projects. But Rundle is no stranger to the instrument: piano was the instrument of choice through her childhood, and though she began to favor the guitar in her early twenties, she still plays with an emotive proficiency (though there are some missed notes that are intentionally left on the tape).

The production of the album is very bare, often featuring just her voice and the piano or her acoustic guitar (“The Company” sees the two overdubbed). It’s incredibly disarming, and makes her overtly personal songwriting feel even more intimate. Often, it sounds like her vocals and piano were recorded through a single mic with little to no processing—I’m not sure I picked up a single instance of added effects beyond the natural reverb of the room.

The combination of her return to piano and the skeletal sound design are an inspired back drop for the most personal songwriting of her career. The lyrics paint pictures of methadone clinics and orphans and negligent parents, sung in the quietest delivery of her career. While she’s always delivered passionate and gorgeous vocal performances, her voice has an athleticism here that probably wouldn’t be possible at higher volumes, climbing and leaping into timbres she hasn’t performed before.

On the surface, it’s incredibly understated. It might be a bridge too far for many of the legions of metal dudes wearing ERR shirts and spinning Marked for Death on the regular. But if you join Emma on the piano bench, if you stop for forty minutes to really listen, you’ll find a profound and important record by one of the best singer/songwriters in the game today.

Follow Emma Ruth Rundle on Instagram, Twitter and Facebook. Album art photo by George Clarke.