Joshua Kramer and Gwendolyn Gudaitis spent years collaborating before releasing anything under the Memory Engine name. The Vancouver, Washington duo worried their three tracks might feel disconnected from each other. They needn’t have. Variety isn’t disconnection—it’s flavor. Across twelve minutes, this self-titled EP showcases the breadth of what these singer-songwriter adventurers love to create, each song revealing a different side of their honest, soulful Americana sound. The conciseness works in their favor, three perfectly framed snapshots of their melodic folk-rock craft.
“Lady Aqiba” opens with warm, classic-rock swagger, the vocal mixed quite loud so the track leaps out immediately. The snake-like melody coils around the song with a vice-like grip, Gudaitis’s clean, pure vocal tone riding the slow-moving, marching groove and bathing the track in undeniable energy. Crunchy guitars keep an off-beat pulse, the whole thing building into crashing crescendos and a satisfying folk-rock-country workout. The character portrayed—responsibility as a fast and roaming friend always catching up, dear consequence making conditions bend—captures someone caught between aspiration and consequence, reaching for the top before suffocating on weighted earth.
The production here, handled by Kramer, demonstrates confidence in placing the vocal front and center. Gudaitis’s delivery commands attention, the contradiction and urgency in the lyrics demanding the same prominence in the mix. The arrangement builds strategically, letting the refrain about passing bottles and owning one’s own days hit with maximum impact. This isn’t delicate finger-picking folk but full-bodied rock that happens to draw from Americana traditions, the intensity serving the emotional content about cycles of escape and return.
“Dear Dismay” pivots completely, crisp mandolin from Joe Tiberio and lush vocals offering a totally different feel. The fast-paced, folksy, sing-along vibe feels like a group of friends gathered around a fireside sharing music and stories. The vocal sits much further back this time, comfortable in the heart of the song rather than dominating it. The wide, open sound and rich spirit of the track carry a wonderfully tactile dimension through thumping drums and washboard-like percussive sounds. The intricate top line rewards careful listening, full of nuance that reveals itself across repeated plays.
The lyrics tackle writer’s block through poetic lament, procrastination personified as an old friend who promises “later will do.” The imagery of a tansy in the field, a blackberry refusing to yield, a moth luring a flame by sheer will—these capture the tension between creative desire and actual productivity. The self-awareness about making excuses, about being an empty billboard churning ideas in the mud, about delaying until ready but never giving up if never trying, all rings recognizable to anyone who’s stared at a blank page. The arrangement matches this restlessness through its quick pace, the mandolin providing nervous energy that mirrors the lyrical content.
“Across the Cuff” closes with a scratchy, lo-fi start, bringing nice texture before the atmosphere switches again. The smooth, soulful warmth and slightly melancholic feel establish a laid-back vibe at first, but when everything comes together in the chorus, the track cuts loose with joyously emotional sound. Layer after layer reveals itself as the song blooms like wildflowers in spring, Gudaitis’s vocal complementing the track perfectly with a full, earthy tone that Start Track compared to a rockier, more expressive Dido. The subtle backing vocals add real depth, executing intricate counterpoints that enhance the overall sound.
The song presents wisdom from someone who knew how to let the world roll by, who could watch chaos unwind and take reflective minutes. The advice about seeking people and places that lend solace and unlace the ties holding you down feels hard-won rather than a platitude. The character dancing in old steps she could clearly see, her patterned skirt shifting in the breeze, lives vividly in the corner of the narrator’s eye, still calling their name years later. The production allows this tender reminiscence room to breathe, Maor Applebaum’s mastering ensuring clarity across the dynamic range.
What makes Memory Engine work is the duo’s commitment to showing their full range rather than playing it safe. Each track occupies distinct sonic territory—classic rock swagger, folksy fireside gathering, soulful reflection—yet Kramer and Gudaitis’s collaborative chemistry holds everything together. Their writing partnership produces intricate melodies and potent lyrical imagery across different moods and tempos without losing cohesive identity. The production choices serve each song’s individual needs rather than imposing a uniform aesthetic.
At twelve minutes, the EP functions as a substantial introduction without overstaying. Memory Engine encouraged listening to all three songs to understand different sides of their artistry, and the advice proves sound. Taken individually, each track demonstrates skill. Taken together, they reveal a duo capable of navigating multiple approaches while maintaining the honest, soulful core that defines their vision. The breadth on display suggests exciting possibilities for future releases. These singer-songwriter adventurers have more music coming, and if this first offering indicates their range and quality, the wait will prove worthwhile.
B-Side Guys 
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