Grew up between cows and cakes. Between mountains and kisses. As the daughter of a farmer and his wife. And as a sister. Eva began early on to capture what she had experienced, told, imagined, and dreamed of in words, rhymes, and lines. Her attempt to put feelings on paper ended in poems, songs, and aphorisms. Playing with words and playful melodies, profound themes are addressed in an almost insignificant way. The 22-year-old sings and tells of betrayal, death, despair, and burnt Polaroid pictures. Of hotel beds and goodbyes, of the morning after, and especially of the evening before. And of stories. Of people and fates, of feelings and repressed thoughts, usually accompanying herself on the guitar. A few chords, a few plucked strings.
When Hannes and Stefan arrived, the music came with them. The piano came along, the bass, the ideas and possibilities, new wishes and dreams. They recorded and rehearsed, played concerts and smoked on windowsills, laughed and failed. The recordings took shape. With "Lagerfeuerfrust" (Campfire Frustration), a handmade album was created over three years. It was produced in basements and kitchens, drawn with pen and paper, and the bass drum was played by hand while lying on the floor. Somewhere between singer/songwriter, poetry recitation, indie pop and Gstanzl.
"High and fast sounds aren't really in my blood," Eva sings in "When I Grow Up." She sings with a calm, reserved voice over stripped-down arrangements: piano, acoustic guitar, ukulele, an old Casio keyboard, acoustic bass, glockenspiel, and metallophone.