Last updated: 11 hours ago
Parish Vũ’ songs are like pressing on a wound — raw, unflinching, but strangely tender. With only voice and baritone electric guitar, he builds lush soundscapes that hold the tension between pain and care, longing and shame, intimacy and distance. Through his candor, he opens a door to communion, where private wounds become shared truths.
His debut EP The Blood traces a story of toxic love, fractured self-image, and the fragile hope of redemption. Each song is pared down to its essence, yet rich with detail — a voice that moves from falsetto lightness to resonant depths, and guitar lines that feel both spacious and exact.
The effect drifts somewhere between slow cinema and a therapy session, offering music for anyone who’s ever felt too smart to be this wounded, or too wounded to sound this pretty.
His debut EP The Blood traces a story of toxic love, fractured self-image, and the fragile hope of redemption. Each song is pared down to its essence, yet rich with detail — a voice that moves from falsetto lightness to resonant depths, and guitar lines that feel both spacious and exact.
The effect drifts somewhere between slow cinema and a therapy session, offering music for anyone who’s ever felt too smart to be this wounded, or too wounded to sound this pretty.