REVIEW: Moving Mountains - Pruning of the Lower Limbs

Just enough to fade away

46:18 // June 27, 2025 // Wax Bodega

I’ve always admired Moving Mountains for their refusal to rely upon the same formula twice, even as their moniker has become a byword for the sort of atmospheric emo-meets-post-rock style which was in vogue in the underground more than a decade ago. The passionate energy of debut LP Pneuma gets most of the attention, but Moving Mountains successfully channeled their style into different avenues with their subsequent attempts, whether it be the more traditional post-rock sound of EP Foreword, the post-hardcore tinges of sophomore full-length Waves, or the mellowed-out indie rock of the self-titled record. None of these releases ventured too far from the evocative blend of melodic bliss and emotional intensity which originally made Moving Mountains tick, but each takes a substantively different approach to get there.

Of that varied discography, the shimmering nocturnal beauty of the self-titled effort has generally appealed to me most strongly - an unpopular opinion, but nonetheless the truth. Until weeks ago, I’d been confident that said album also represented Moving Mountains’ final statement of intent, given it has been twelve years now since its release. But, wonder of wonders, here I am writing about Pruning of the Lower Limbs, the band’s new output and fourth full-length. With comeback releases of this ilk, the burning question is always “do they still have it?”, and in this case, I’d add an additional query - “are they still managing to tweak their signature sound?”.

It takes about two seconds for Moving Mountains to erase any of the doubts inherent in the first question. Opener “Ghosts” meets your ears (I was gonna say “bursts out of your speakers”, but it’s gentle enough to feel more like a floaty ephemeral presence, as the song title suggests) and quickly you’ll realize the band hasn’t lost a step. The production is sublime, the melodies pristine, the tune chock full of irrepressible emotion. All of those praises remain true throughout the ten song tracklist - if anything, I’d argue that Pruning of the Lower Limbs stands as Moving Mountains’ most consistently excellent release, by some margin. Tracks like “Cars” showcase an upbeat rock energy which propels things along, while others like “Voices” are more reflective while maintaining a somber elegance. Everything fits together wonderfully.

Regarding the second point of uncertainty, Pruning of the Lower Limbs feels closest in style to the self-titled, its basic shape fitting nicely into the same kind of relatively accessible easy-going indie framework. That said, there are notable elements associated with all previous Moving Mountains releases to be found here - while this might be the band’s only attempt to date which doesn’t really strike new ground, it instead functions as a beautiful synthesis of assorted styles they’ve already tried on for size. In particular, this album trims back the self-titled’s reliance of catchy hooks and instead aspires for and achieves an aching atmosphere, built upon a melodic indie foundation but fused with traces of more overt post-rock influence (“Everyone is Happy, and Nothing is Good”) and heavier moments hinting at the Waves era (“All Is Here” and “Snow On Norris Street”). The screamed vocals of Pneuma are notably absent, which may be the biggest potential gripe among longtime fans, but the clean singing that remains is highly effective and tasteful, regardless of how soothing or aggressive the instrumentation might be at any given moment.

Closer “Wedding Clothes” suitably finalizes Pruning of the Lower Limbs’ defining aesthetic - big melodies and big emotions wrapped up in holy matrimony (if the shoe fits…). Strikingly, while the album contains a fair amount of sonic diversity, epitomized by the back-to-back dual successes of the (aforementioned) vigorous “Snow On Norris Street” and the gorgeous sentimental folk tune “Blue”, the whole package fits together into a lovely overarching vibe. Something about the album conjures up images of walking on a cold night, your breath suspended in the air, feeling the cozy appeal of the golden lights shining in all the homes you pass by. In other words, this is an ideal late-autumn or winter record released in the height of summer, but no complaints here. Not only has a great act returned from what seemed like a permanent absence, but their revival proves to be an absolute triumph.

8.5/10