Coiled in the Trees
"Out Of The Woods" Doesn't Chase You
Last week, I mentioned I was building a playlist that reminds me of the woods—not just pine needles and birdsong. The other stuff. Things that are feral, shadowy, or untamed. Ineffable things. I’m not about to start detailing each entry or belaboring the point. Frankly, none of these songs are improved by my thoughts on them.
“A Forest” by The Cure and “Meet Me in the Woods” by Lord Huron hold top spots, but I can’t do them justice. Previously, I talked about “Feral Roots” by Rival Sons. And maybe I turned a few friends onto that one. What I wrote, though, probably said more about me than the song itself.
This week, I’m still stuck in the trees. It’s quieter now. More haunted, maybe. “Out Of The Woods” by Smoke Fairies is in heavy rotation.
I’d never heard of Smoke Fairies—two women out of Chichester, England—but they know their way around a vibe. This track doesn’t chase you. It’s got too much class for that. Instead, it waits. You wander in, and it coils around you before humming into your rubs. The vocals drift like campfire smoke. The hazy guitar aches just enough. The drums, subtle and restrained, feel like a slow heartbeat in the mist.
“Out Of The Woods” sounds like regret with posture that your mother would be proud of. Like you’ve made it out of something, but you’re not sure if where you’ve landed makes you safer or more exposed to… something. It’s a song for mornings when your coffee’s gone cold and your thoughts keep tangling up in what ifs.
And I haven’t even touched the lyrics. That might deserve a separate analysis altogether. For now, I’m just talking about what this song does to me. How it affects me sonically, emotionally, and viscerally.
It’s earned its spot on the list, which I’ve named Psithurism. This one certainly feels like a zephyr moving across just-fallen leaves in Autumn, waiting for the fog to lift.