Home Reviews Aune Mire: The Hunter & The Haunted Review

    Aune Mire: The Hunter & The Haunted Review

    Minneapolis trio expands their sonic palette on a collection that honours British folk tradition whilst embracing experimental textures and choral devotion.

    Aune Mire The Hunter & The Haunted album cover

    There’s a particular quality to music that positions itself at the crossroads of where ecclesiastical reverence meets the earthbound grit of folk tradition. It’s the sound of ancient rites performed in abandoned chapels, of liturgy whispered through groves rather than naves. Aune Mire‘s The Hunter & The Haunted occupies this space with remarkable assurance, crafting an album that feels simultaneously pastoral and profoundly unsettling, where rural lore and spiritual yearning intertwine like roots beneath sacred ground.

    What began in 2022 as Anthony Amelang’s solo neofolk venture in Minneapolis has evolved into something altogether more complex. The Minneapolis noise artist, working alongside multi-instrumentalist Miles McClain since their 2024 release Lacrimae Or Eleven Tears, has now expanded Aune Mire into a trio with the addition of soprano vocalist Cassandra Shaw. Her arrival marks a transformative moment for the project, with Shaw’s performance experience being limited to high school choir before joining, bringing an ethereal luminosity that fundamentally alters the group’s sonic architecture.

    The Hunter & The Haunted represents the trio’s first collaborative statement, released on 27th September 2025. The album interweaves three traditional ballads from Scotland and England with original compositions by McClain and Amelang, creating a collection that pays homage to the British folk revival of the 1960s and ’70s whilst filtering those influences through the members’ backgrounds in experimental music and DIY sensibilities. McClain’s intricate guitar work takes centre stage here, whilst Amelang’s baritone (previously the dominant voice) now blends with McClain’s and Shaw’s higher registers to create choral textures that recall the liturgical grandeur of groups like Nature and Organisation and Sol Invictus, without compromising their own unique intimacy.

    Where their previous work dwelled in funereal ambience, The Hunter & The Haunted inhabits warmer, more pastoral territory without entirely abandoning its inclination toward the uncanny. The opening track, ‘Mirie It Is While Sumer Ilast’, establishes this duality immediately with delicate, droning synths underpinning harmonised male and female vocals that respond to one another with a grace that feels almost liturgical. The voices, high-pitched and exposed against minimal instrumentation, possess the kind of nakedness that makes you acutely aware of the breath between phrases, the slight tremor of human frailty.

    Aune Mire live
    Aune Mire live

    But Aune Mire isn’t content to simply recreate folk revivalism. ‘Tree Of The Exit’ introduces industrial-adjacent textures, layering acoustic strumming with processed samples and a charismatic voice delivering what sounds like motivational rhetoric, the kind of manipulative oratory associated with cult leaders. It’s a juxtaposition that reveals the project’s experimental DNA, suggesting parallels with the dark pastoral work of Backworld.

    The traditional material receives reverent yet unorthodox treatment. ‘Hares On The Mountain’ unfolds as a conversation between voices, its call-and-response structure supported by delicate acoustic plucking and shimmering harmonics. The performance evokes lush northern landscapes of running creeks and untouched wilderness whilst exploring themes of desire and natural beauty with disarming sincerity. Later, ‘Twa Corbies’ begins with processed sounds that verge on industrialism before settling into Gaelic-inflected duets over droning undertones and the distinctive rattle of what sounds like a güiro, showcasing the group’s instrumental palette whilst honouring the ballad’s traditional roots.

    The album’s most ambitious moment arrives with its title track, a near-eight-minute piece that allows the trio to truly stretch out. Ethereal synthesisers pierce through like light through parting clouds, whilst the music settles into a sustained, hypnotic groove. Here, the voice functions less as a narrative device and more as another instrument in the ensemble, contributing to the track’s meditative, almost trance-inducing quality. It’s the album’s most overtly cinematic moment, possessing a subtle grandeur and intimacy at the heart of the performance.

    ‘Of The Gallows And Its Burdensome Rider’ demonstrates Aune Mire’s willingness to embrace apparent contradictions. A sustained drone underpins sampled spiritual discourse before violin and rumbling textures propel the instrumental forward. It’s experimental country music, if such a thing can exist, where Appalachian folk tradition meets avant-garde sound design. The brief ‘Unquiet Visions’ functions as a palate cleanser, its strange instrumentation and wordless vocalisations preparing the listener for the album’s conclusion.

    ‘On The Wheel Of Joyous Woe’ closes the album with the same liturgical sensibility that permeates the entire work. Harmonised male and female vocals over quiet strumming create something uplifting, despite, or perhaps because of, the music’s minimalist approach. There’s an ecclesiastical quality here that suggests something closer to sacred music performed outside the confines of institutional religion. It recalls The Moon and the Nightspirit‘s pagan mysticism, yet Aune Mire’s vision feels more grounded, more concerned with the earth beneath their feet than with celestial realms.

    This is music deeply attuned to natural cycles and rural spirituality, yet unafraid to incorporate samples of cultish rhetoric or industrial textures. The addition of Cassandra Shaw has given Aune Mire access to choral possibilities that elevate the material beyond mere revivalism. These arrangements possess a tenor and grace that feel devotional, even as the lyrical content often dwells on mortality and existential uncertainty.

    At just over 32 minutes, The Hunter & The Haunted doesn’t overstay its welcome. It’s a statement from a group that has found its voice by embracing multiplicity in the form of vocalists, of influences, of the sacred and profane existing in uneasy communion. For those willing to follow Aune Mire into the woods, there are genuine revelations waiting amongst the trees.

    Keep up-to-date with Aune Mire at the links below.

    Bandcamp

    Instagram

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