Much like their name suggests, The Postmarks‘ debut disc is the stuff of lost love letters, perfume-soaked postcards, and twenty-something hopefulness. It’s downright infectious.
Front woman Tim Yehezkely has a voice that sounds more like a flute than anything, and it’s complemented by ambient strings, woodwinds, and muted piano. “Our glass is half empty / The sand is slipping through the spaces in our hands,” Yehezkely breathes in “Summers Never Seem to Last,” and it’s at once an admission to being incompatible with her lover and a refusal to dwell on her regrets.
Like all of the masterful love song writers before her, Yehezkely knows how to walk the line between optimism and dismay, joy and sorrow, and romantic resilience and the defeat of heartbreak. The cover of the album is graced with Yehezkely’s pensive gaze, eyes cast sideways and chin resting on hand, with the slightest grin turning up the corner of her mouth, and it seems to symbolize the overall feel of the record – a girl alone with her thoughts, searching through the ruins of past love affairs in search of her own soul.
– Andrea Myers
The Postmarks (Worlds Fair)