Mon Rovîa - Bloodline

Bloodline is one of those records that doesn’t ask for your attention; it assumes it. The opening BLACK COULDRON shows off with ease the sway between styles.

The kind of album that arrives like a conversation you’ve already been having, no need for introductions. Warm, measured, mature, and oh so human - and we’re more than happy to be involved. Straight away, we recommend you listen to this one with headphones, and do nothing else. While it is dreamy on speakers, there are some textures that are easier to catch through headphones - AirPods will work just fine.

The danger zone here is obvious: this could’ve easily drifted into “nice” territory. The kind of nice that disappears the second you put the kettle on. That background sh*t you just don’t listen to. It didn’t, it doesn’t. There are some albums that you select and play start to end, this is one of them.

Mon Rovîa understands something a lot of soft, introspective records don’t: restraint is only interesting if there’s tension underneath it; we want to be held there. This Afro-Appalachian singer-songwriter from Liberia, who grew up in the United States, has stories to tell. And we were more than ready to listen.

The songs sit in that folk-soul, story-first space. Not in a cosplay way, not in a “look at my influences” way, there is nothing that screams ‘I stole this from somewhere else’. More like someone who actually uses music to think out loud, his writing invites us to join him for a while, and the easy guitars move us along with the tracks. There’s a raw, exposing quality to the writing, like these songs weren’t engineered for impact, but they have it, oh boy, do they. BLOODLINE is an example of that.

If you’re here for hooks, big moments, or anything that smells like a chorus that’s been overworked for pop catchiness, you’re not going to get it; you’re going to get bored. Probably by track three. This is not a record that performs for you. It walks along, and you can walk with it or miss the point. The upbeat, foot-tapping, head-bobbing catchiness of FIELD SONG is fabulous, but never for a second let the indie-folk-country beat fool you - always keep an ear for the lyrics. Church, rifles, childhood, war with an overarching sense of yearning.

If you’re the kind of listener who likes sitting inside someone else’s head for a while, Bloodline (as the full body of work) works brilliantly. The introspective writing is very inviting, but leaves you with questions, so like us, you’ll probably end up reading more about him. And you should. Between the guns, violence, and news audio, you can build a picture; he makes it so easy, but you’ll want the full story. Go and read more about him, and your third listen becomes richer.

There’s no theatrical suffering; it’s not an overt trauma dump with a tune or oversized drama. HEAVY FOOT is a perfect example, on first pass you’ll be nodding your head along, second time around you’ll catch ’and the government, staying on the heavy foot, tryin’ to keep us all down, no they never gunna keep us all down’. It’s just honest work.

You can pick any track from PRAY THE DEVIL BACK TO HELL or SOMEWHERE DOWN IN GEORGIA and the delivery is still flawless.

Does the album run a little long? It’s barely over 42 minutes, and feels complete by the time we finished WHERE THE MOUNTAINS MEET THE SEA.

But as a full statement, Bloodline feels honest and warm, regardless of the topic, which in itself is cold and brutal. Not “sad-boy honest.” Just… someone trying to put their story somewhere outside their own head, and succeeding. We’re being invited to listen along for experiences that most of us have never had, and if luck is on our side, we never will.

This isn’t a record you recommend to everyone. This is a record you recommend to specific people. The ones who don’t need to be impressed. The ones who know what excellence in delivery is. Who appreciate clean production, thoughtful musicianship, and lyrical precision.