Natural disasters had an unsolved connection with mystery. Life and nature confronts in the barest form, bearing the most haunting tales. Consisting of eight melancholy odes, I Said You Must Be Leaving feels like a prayer for the victims of a Japanese Tsunami. Oxlip, aka singer-songwriter Jayne Trimble intuitively tuned into the untold voices of the victims.

Without being able to retrieve the bodies, some of the families who suffered great loss from the disaster still carried items belonged to their loved ones, hoping one day they’d return. The unresolved nature of the Tsunami and the drastic nature of death became the undertone of the beautiful orchestrated album.

“I watched Unsolved Mysteries and wanted to intuit what I believed the victims of a Japanese Tsunami might want to say,” she said about the project.

From intimate narrations to childlike dances, to poignant lullabies to epic angsty roars, each and every song on I Said You Must Be Leaving had its own ghosts whispering into the creation, as if messages sent to those who needed to hear. A piece of memory lived in the songs and so were the souls, being preserved like photographs.

Haunting and poignant, the two words can’t describe the album enough. Though it sets in a dark, melancholy tone, the songs were hardly sorrowful. Oxlip’s songwriting and vocal style channels between Agnes Obel’s classic minimalist folk songs with a pinch of Harley Williams’ modern sensitivity. The arrangements on this album are clever and simple. “Wayward Woman” opens with an acoustic guitar in dim light, piano and a touch of light percussion. The track had a humming swing that felt like a lullaby whispered into listeners’ ears. Intimate, personal, and domestic, as if a woman sitting on a rocking chair, mesmerizing her life in the melodic ode.

“Gallows Hill” is a haunting ballad that drifts in bouncy melodies, tremolo strings, and marching percussion. “Maggie H.” taps into the cinematic, atmospheric side of storytelling. More drastic in volume with unsettling shakers, the darkly laced, dissonant piano had angst in it while the vocals harmonized and responded to what it said.

“Salt” runs a flowing piano arpeggio with trembling bells. Oxlips’ voice dissolves into the sonic waves that spread into the distance. It feels like the storm and the water. There’s the flowing quality and then there’s the thickly translucent stillness that silenced sunlight.

“12 Blind Boys” goes back to the bouncy, child-like rhythm. Haunting, as if a picture frame of memories. “Bones in Clay” then concludes the album with a poignant message, charged with the darkly tension in the shivering high strings and unresting vocals.