Throwing Muses - Moonlight Concessions

Is this a late-career reinvention—or just a quieter retread? Moonlight Concessions is a 29-minute acoustic album that blends folk tension with alt-rock moodiness

What happens to a band that thrives on chaos… when they finally embrace stillness?

Whether you’ve followed Throwing Muses since their college rock heyday or you’re just now discovering them through a moody playlist rabbit hole, one thing’s always been true: they don’t sound like anyone else. Their music has long walked a tightrope—part fever dream, part controlled burn—anchored by Kristin Hersh, whose voice has always carried equal parts fury and fragility.

Back in the late ’80s and early ’90s, they weren’t household names, but they carved out a space all their own, influencing everyone from PJ Harvey to Big Thief. They weren’t chasing trends—they were chasing ghosts.

Now, in 2025, they’ve re-emerged with Moonlight Concessions, a record that swaps noise for nuance. It’s acoustic. It’s eerie. And it feels like a whispered secret passed across a candlelit room.

So—can a band known for its raw power still move us when the volume drops?

Let’s see what the critics think.

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What Works

Stripped Back, But Still Intense

This isn’t a typical acoustic pivot. Moonlight Concessions is quiet, yes—but it’s the kind of quiet that hums with anxiety. You lean in, waiting for the eruption that never comes. And that tension? It’s gripping.

The Guardian compared it to Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged: stripped-down but emotionally full. If you’ve ever loved music that breathes instead of shouts—this might already be your album of the year.

Kristin Hersh: Unearthly, as Always

She’s not just the frontwoman—she is the atmosphere. Hersh’s voice has always carried a kind of electric rawness, and here, it’s given room to stretch.

Songs like “Albatross” and “You're Clouds” showcase her at her most emotionally surgical. She’s not trying to overwhelm you. She’s trying to outlast you.

And she does.

Cello as a Lead Character

Pete Harvey’s cello weaves through these tracks like a ghost in the walls. It groans, sighs, and occasionally howls—giving the album its emotional weight where guitars once lived.

This isn’t just a “quiet record.” It’s a haunted one.

The Confessions Companion

If you’re the kind of listener who loves pulling apart a record’s DNA, Moonlight Confessions—the companion album of alternate versions—is pure catnip.

Same songs, different angles. It’s like being let in on the band’s secret sketchbook.

Have you listened to both yet? Which one hits harder? Let’s trade notes.

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👉 Wondering where Moonlight Concessions falls short? Unlock the full review to explore its flaws—and decide whether it deserves your time or your skip list.