8/10

There's something immediately fitting about a project called Man From The Woods choosing to step away from excess. And on his new two-track offering 'Man From The Woods II', Charlie Tweed returns to a more solitary, elemental form of songwriting, stripping the project back after recent collaborative work and allowing atmosphere, space and environment to take on a much greater role.

Recorded in isolation with modest equipment, layered vocals and sounds gathered from the surrounding landscape, 'Man From The Woods II' carries a hushed, almost suspended quality. Rather than pushing the listener forward, it seems to invite them inward.

That restraint is particularly effective on the opener 'Submerge'. Tweed’s influences, from Elliott Smith and Jason Molina to Sparklehorse and Mercury Rev, can be felt in the fragility and grain of the recording, but the music never feels overly referential. Instead, those touchstones become part of a broader language built around melancholy, distance and a deep attentiveness to place.

There's an impressive amount of depth in how little is actually happening. Small electronic details hover at the edges, voices gather in layers, and environmental recordings blur the distinction between song and setting. The openness gives the track a psychological weight, as though the woods are an active participant in the music itself.

Alongside ‘We Live In These Woods’, the EP becomes a quiet recalibration for Man From The Woods. Where a fuller arrangement might have made the material feel more immediate, he chooses ambiguity and patience instead. It's a decision that rewards close listening, particularly as small textures begin to reveal themselves over repeated plays.

Since ‘Migration Song’ introduced Man From The Woods to a wider audience through Skins, Charlie Tweed has maintained an identity that feels deliberately removed from the usual machinery around independent music.

And 'Man From The Woods II' continues that instinct with confidence. Sparse, contemplative and quietly absorbing, it finds its strength in the feeling of disappearing into a landscape and listening carefully to what remains.