Mocking Cricket Albums

Mocking Cricket is my indie, gothic folk band. The band is me in a room, alone by myself, making sounds with whatever sound-making stuff I can scrounge: voice, acoustic guitar (strummed and bowed), McNally strumstick (plucked and bowed), soprano and tenor ukulele, and assorted percussion.

I've been singing and writing poetry and lyrics forever, but music's long been a hobby or side project to the visual art. The more doomy-stressful the world gets, the more I need to make music for my own peace of mind. (Such as it is!) And if I'm throwing that much time at it, per art code, I may as well toss a selection where other folks can hear. 

What Happens Come Dusk is a demo EP, released May 2020, on themes of macabre art history, and connection through art within and across troubled times. These were for a podcast I've had in the drafts pile for a few years now, that's still on the back-burner. More and better tracks to come, just as soon as I figure how to work a proper DAW!

Watercolor Illustration: a cricket emerging from a mockingbird's open beak, wreathed in fasle indigo (rattleweed), white bleeding heart, wormwood, and mockingbird feathers. These bitter treasures. By Evvie Marin.

You can stream or download music here in MP3 or FLAC formats (FLAC is lossless), or in a wider selection of file types on Bandcamp. Check out the lyrics through this nifty streaming player, or on the lyrics page.

Your download, should you procure one, includes PDF liner notes with full lyrics and original photography and artwork.

Ain't We Got Fun music by Richard A. Whiting, lyrics by Raymond B. Egan & Gus Kahn, 1921. Rearranged in A minor with synth by yours truly. All the other tracks are original.

Selfie of Evvie in navy blue glitter lipstick, with sunsetting window light casting leaf-shaped shadows over their face. Very indie band mood happening in this photo here.

Then the dawn’s paintbox blush brushes glorious things! 
Is it any surprise how the light-mongers cling 
To the bright cream of life, simulacra of winning, 
And sweet Soma pretense What Happens Come Dusk 
Is not happening?