Finn Andrews has an extraordinary voice. The sort of voice that no amount of poetic language can truly do justice. Stick the words ‘rich’, ‘husk’, ‘romantic ache’, ‘moody’, ‘mercurial’, ‘that Tom Waitsy croak Isaac that Modest Mouse has’, ‘bloodied’, ‘Buckley-esque’ in whatever order you wish, cut-and-paste them around as many times as you like, but you won’t begin to describe those tones that pour from his lips. Then again, he isn’t so much a singer, rather a mystic, channelling dead-souls. It’s a similar heft you hear creaking in Nick Cave and them Badseeds’ finest blackened-blues rock & roll hymns. It makes no sense that any of this needs be said, because if there was any logic to who gets notoriety and plaudits, The Veils’ brand of uplifting-misery would be a name every skinny jean / black tee owning music fan would be hip to. [Source]
New Music United 