The men who honed my eyes and ears
For the sight and for the sound
He is not a friend of mine
Budapest dream folk act Musica Moralia’s “Let’s Take Our Bones Out” is a haunting song that opens with a banjo carrying the dusty dignity of a treasured antique. Around it, Meggyesházi Éda sings with poised delicacy, turning each phrase as though testing the joints of language. Dream folk provides a broad shelter for a rigorous study of posture, vulnerability, and the strange politics of inhabiting a body.
Éda calls her work “quiet noise,” a useful contradiction for music that gathers force through patience. The trio lets the song unfold by degrees, leaving enough air around each gesture for uncertainty to enter the arrangement. Classical discipline brushes against Patrick Wolf’s theatricality, while Éda’s command of emotional scale carries traces of Anohni, Benjamin Clementine, and Mariam the Believer. Her voice follows an inward geometry, moving from fragile poise towards physical release as it draws on American folk traditions and Celtic song, recalling Mary O’Hara’s Óró Mó Bháidín, later sampled by Passion Pit on Sleepyhead.
“Let’s Take Our Bones Out portrays both emotional transformation and the relearning of anatomy,” Éda explains. The premise might sound forbiddingly cerebral, though the track remains sensuous throughout. Its concern with the Alexander Technique gives the song an unusual frame: posture becomes memory, tension becomes biography, and the skeleton turns into a structure open to revision. Éda’s voice bends around these ideas with calm intensity, while the banjo introduces a faintly uncanny domestic texture, homely and estranged at once.
Across its measured duration, small changes carry uncommon pressure: a tightened vowel, a pause held open, a banjo note left bare enough to expose its wooden grain and age.
Watch the video for Let’s Take Our Bones Out below:
Let’s Take Our Bones Out reverses the gaze established by their previous release, Flatland. Previously, a peculiar couple watched the group; now the trio occupies the centre, exposed to scrutiny while retaining an elusive composure. This change suits a song about learning the body again. Observation becomes participation, and anatomy appears as a set of habits waiting to be unlearned.
The title carries a childlike gruesomeness, imagining liberation through impossible surgery. Éda treats that image with tenderness, locating freedom in minute acts of awareness away from spectacle. Notes hang with deliberate weight; silences become small rooms where the listener can register breath, muscle and balance. Even the folk materials feel freshly handled, stripped of ornament and placed under curious light.
“This song is a moment of reflection: it shows how I began translating my emotions through the language of water,” the band says on their Bandcamp. “Flatland is also a revelation, as it is not our task to control the water, or the ’emotions of the great seas.’ The point isn’t to control any of it, but rather to learn to float within it, to trust it, and to create a sense of kinship with it. The song comes to life through telling stories that carry the elements most essential for me in forming connections or building relationships.”
Watch the video for Flatland below:
Only Salt, due in September 2026 through Klinik and Corner Art Management, is described as an album about Éda’s relationship with water. Let’s Take Our Bones Out suggests that this relationship will extend beyond symbolism into method: yielding, balancing, adjusting, finding motion through attention. The sacred quality associated with Musica Moralia comes through here without grand ceremony. A modest instrument, a searching voice and a patient structure are enough to make the body feel newly strange, then newly possible.
Find Let’s Take Our Bones via streaming here, and listen to Flatland below and order the single here.
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The post Budapest Dream Folk Act Musica Moralia Finds Autonomy Again In Video for “Let’s Take Our Bones Out” appeared first on Post-Punk.com.
