Saskatoon, you colonial outpost, what have you here? The Moas. Extinct birds, no; shoegaze prairie prayers, yeah. Arguejob nearly missed this. The Moas have kept us waiting. But this debut full length is slow cooked to perfection. I saw their show at Wunderbar nearly three years ago and found it so compelling, so centripetal. Since then, I have always imagined Saskatoon as a place where bands like The Moas exist. Partake: Edifying sadness imbued in every jam, dragging you limply through the frozen lake waters of Sonia Dickin’s voice. The way “Blue Light” leads you into a straight forward rock and roll jam but suddenly uncovers its true face with The Moas signature dispossessed angelic motif. “Of Mice” remains a favourite, a curve ball progression with lilting bedroom tones, ripe with a gentle angst and a the twining dance of cigarette smoke. “Thinner For It” is the shadowy centrepiece of the record, diving into the bag of tricks to produce something molasses thick and solid to the senses. In 35 minutes we have a tightly bound knot of songs that find you wherever you are and plunge you into the inner recesses of your finitude. On repeat.