The EP Winter Solstice by Michael Evan Moore is a sonic portrait of the season. Through ethereal keys and rich orchestral arrangements, Michael Evan Moore explores the seemingly paradoxical nature of the winter solstice: somber yet pierced with light, silent yet teeming with life beneath the surface.

The six piano compositions form a cycle that can be likened to the circle of life—ranging from bursts of joy to contemplative reflection. The EP feels intimate and sincere. At the same time, the orchestral elements blur the boundaries of the personal, transforming the album into something greater, as if it resonates far beyond the room where you listen.

photo by @mooremusic96

Notably, much of the material is fresh, and that imparts a distinct energy. Moore paints winter scenes with his notes, guiding you through them, starting with the year’s darkest moments. Yet despite the darkness, there is always a sense of forward motion in the music—a search for light, a desire to embrace the entirety of the human experience.

When this record first came out, I didn’t know what to expect—or no, that’s not true. I expected some pleasant background music, a polished December landscape tailored for a trendy coffee shop playlist. But the music took a completely different turn. It felt like watching a great film, the kind where the light flickers but doesn’t warm, where the silence hums, and the outlines of objects evoke the majestic futility of seasonal change.

I can’t just call it “piano with an orchestra” because that reduces it to a formality, while this EP tries to tap into your internal morphology of winter. Moore creates space for perceptual mistakes, for blurriness, for microscopic pauses where a key seems just slightly off, only for the orchestral arrangement to catch it—like a sculptor uncovering a missing fragment from marble dust.

The impression of a personal journal subtly blends with a sense of cosmic vastness. I can’t fall back on the old cliché of a “meditative soundtrack for cold evenings” because it feels too banal. Yes, you might play this album in the background after your attempts at crafting a witty tweet fail, and you’re left wanting to simply pause. But this EP isn’t so much background as it is frontal—it hovers directly in front of you, a silent witness, waiting for you to start an internal dialogue. Winter Solstice feels almost like a physical object: you sense its texture, hear the frozen air creak under the weight of its notes.

Immersion begins with the title track, which reminds me of the quiet solitude of winter’s darkness. Weeping strings blend with uneasy keys, painting a sonic portrait where the fading light symbolizes nature’s slumber. It’s a moment when the external winter and inner stillness merge, with sound as the guide inviting you into meditation.

Memories takes you into the past. Its shimmering keys awaken vivid imagery, while an airy saxophone adds a soft sense of infinity to the track. Dedicated to Michael’s late grandmother, Memories carries a deep sincerity, making it especially poignant.

Starlight can be described as a frosty morning where your breath turns to mist and slender tree branches shimmer under a delicate icy glaze. There’s a reverence for the harmony of nature here—its quiet power and boundless expanse. It is a meditation on our place in the world, something winter deliberately challenges us to contemplate.

The warmth of Snowfall immediately conjures images of winter evenings by the fire. It avoids excessive sentimentality or melancholy—offering instead a sincere sense of comfort and light. This track evokes the feeling of coming home after a long day, the crackling fire in the hearth, and snow falling softly beyond the windows. It doesn’t so much describe winter as reveal its human dimension: warmth where it matters most.

Family is a continuation of Snowfall but on a more intimate note. The harmonies entwine like an embrace, and the delicate ripples of the piano create an atmosphere of closeness and unity.

The final track of the EP, Moonlight, is a true culmination. It gathers all the emotions built up throughout the listening experience. A soft, almost imperceptible prelude gradually swells into something epic. It’s an ode to the entire cycle of life—a symbol of closure and return to the beginning. Moonlight ends the album as seamlessly as the horizon curves—perfectly.

When I finished listening to the last track, I felt as though I had been transported somewhere beyond the bounds of the everyday. Michael Evan Moore invited me to step into his world, to walk across the crisp crust of snow, to hear how, beneath those centimeters of ice and frozen ground, something barely perceptible stirs. Perhaps a sprout, perhaps the dream of some small creature, or perhaps old thoughts rolled tightly into a ball. Moore doesn’t demand explanations—he doesn’t really demand anything. He simply shows. And it’s up to you to decide whether you want to witness these winter scenes.

*This review was made possible by SubmitHub