A.A.Williams - As The Moon Rests (2LP) - Gold Vinyl

A.A. Williams makes music that blooms in the quiet and then towers over you, and her second album, As The Moon Rests, is the clearest expression of that pull. Released in October 2022 on Bella Union, it finds the London songwriter leaning into the heavy, slow-burning grandeur she hinted at on Forever Blue and the stark intimacy of her lockdown covers project, Songs From Isolation. The palette is familiar, but the confidence is new. Piano and cello anchor the songs, guitars come in like a weather front, and her voice, low and steady, ties it all together without ever needing to shout.

Williams has talked about writing and arranging with a classical head and a post-rock heart, and you can hear that tension all over As The Moon Rests. The pieces feel built, not just written. She’ll set a theme on the piano, double it with strings, then slide in bass and drums until the whole thing crests like a tide. It can feel cinematic, sure, but not in a hollow, soundtrack-for-hire way. The choices serve the songs and the stories they carry, usually about loss and resolve and the way those two states keep trading places.

“Evaporate” is one of the record’s anchors, the kind of slow ascent she does so well. It starts as a whisper, a confession almost, and by the end you’re inside a storm of guitars, all low-end thrum and glassy harmonics. “The Echo” takes a different route, shorter and sharper, but there’s the same sense of weight behind every note, the same care with space. Williams uses silence like another instrument, leaving little pockets where breath and bow noise creep in. When the drums do crack open, they feel earned.

If you came to her through Chelsea Wolfe or Emma Ruth Rundle, you’ll find a kindred spirit here, though Williams writes with a distinctly British chill, more drizzle than desert. The production keeps everything close and tactile. You can almost trace the arc of a bow across the strings or picture fingers on a piano key before the strike. That intimacy makes the heavier moments land harder. It also rewards a good listen on vinyl, where the low-end heft and the stacked harmonies can stretch out properly. For crate diggers eyeing A.A. Williams vinyl, this one’s an easy recommendation.

Critical response matched the ambition. Outlets like Kerrang! and The Line of Best Fit praised the album’s scale and compositional poise, and fans who’d filed her under post-rock or doomgaze found new corners to sit in. There’s a patient fearlessness to the writing that feels earned by the path she took to get here, from early shows in London rooms to a debut on Bella Union, then a year spent reimagining other people’s songs until her own felt sharper by contrast. As The Moon Rests doesn’t chase a bigger sound so much as deepen what was already there.

It also answers a practical question I hear a lot behind the counter when folks come in asking about A.A. Williams albums on vinyl. Where do I start? Forever Blue is a strong entry point, but this is the record where everything clicks. The dynamics are bolder, the melodies cut cleaner, and the string writing steps forward without tipping into ornament. If you buy A.A. Williams records online, make room for this one, and if you spot As The Moon Rests vinyl in a well-stocked Melbourne record store, don’t overthink it. Records like this tend to vanish from the bins and then live on in want lists.

Williams never rushes her payoffs, which means the album rewards repeat visits. You’ll catch how a single piano figure recurs like a breadcrumb, or how a backing vocal answers a lyric from two songs back. That level of care is what separates a moody rock record from a world you want to inhabit. For listeners who file under vinyl records Australia and beyond, As The Moon Rests is one of those quietly essential pieces, the kind that turns a late night into a ritual and a turntable into a small cathedral.