Some albums pull you under, drag you across shifting emotional landscapes, and leave you staring at the ceiling in the best way possible. ‘Bones’n’Stones’, the debut album from Teika & The Raw Beat, is one of those rare records that feels like it was made from both dirt and stardust- intimate, earthbound, yet endlessly transcendent.
Anchored by Mateja Kert’s haunting, shape-shifting voice- part whisper, part wildfire- the album unfolds like a shadowy folk opera with one foot in the swamp and the other in the sky. It’s dark, yes, but never hollow. These are songs that bleed meaning: reflections on grief and survival, on choosing softness in a fractured world, on the courage it takes to simply keep going.
There’s something deeply cinematic about how this record moves- like a lost arthouse film with a post-rock soul. The arrangements sweep and crash: ghostly pianos, throbbing bass, strings that shimmer and stab. Kert never oversells the emotion- she lets it hover, twist, and rise when it’s ready. On songs like ‘Angel at My Door’, you feel the ache of nostalgia and rootlessness at once, while ‘Ragged Plumes’ scorches and soars, a quiet epic that speaks to the emotional cost of living through uncertain times.
What makes ‘Bones’n’Stones’ so unforgettable is its duality- the tension between light and dark, fragility and fire. It’s a record that doesn’t rush to resolve itself. It sits with discomfort, questions everything, and dares to suggest that no feeling is final. There are no easy answers here, just beautifully constructed rooms in which to feel everything.
Having honed her craft between Austria, Ireland, and now Berlin, Kert brings a sense of borderless storytelling- her music speaks many languages but feels very personal. You don’t need to understand the full narrative arc to get it. You just have to listen.
For a debut, ‘Bones’n’Stones’ is a fully realised artistic statement. It doesn’t just haunt the edges of your mind. It takes up residence.