Shortly before releasing last year’s No Glory, their debut album, Hannah Pruzinsky left their work as a physician to pursue music full-time—a leap that quickly paid off within New York’s close-knit DIY scene. Under the name h. pruz, they craft songs with a quiet, assured intimacy, a confidence that suited No Glory’s focus on new love. Its follow-up, Red sky at morning, pushes deeper, trading the glow of infatuation for restlessness and a soft, macabre edge, all set against gentle, acoustic folk.

The cracks appear early. On “Arrival,” a scene of cozy domesticity slips toward unease as Pruzinsky reflects on old habits and intrusive fears. That tension lingers across the record: even the seemingly tender “After Always” hides anxiety beneath its timid drums and creeping bass, blurring the line between closeness and suffocation.

The album’s most compelling moments embrace this darkness. Its release is paired with a surreal RPG booklet that mirrors the record’s introspective voyage, illuminating songs like “Force” and the gothic-tinged “Krista,” whose eerie monologues play against surprisingly lively percussion. As with earlier standout “I Keep Changing,” the distorted blast of “If you cannot make it stop” jolts the album into raw, almost collapsing rock as Pruzinsky wrestles with fears of failure. It’s a disarming shift—one that hints at fertile new directions for whatever comes next.