It’s tracks like this one which make my job incredibly difficult. Even if I was the greatest writer in the English-speaking world, there’d still be songs where my commentary adds very little. The best words I could muster would always be a mere distraction next to ‘Carry You’, as the only words that matter here are those of Dan Zimmerman. Set against a backdrop of elegant piano and sumptuous strings, ‘Carry You’ details the loss of a close friend who died from cancer. Anyone who’s known loss will find something that feels all too familiar in this exploration of grief; the sense of disbelief that refuses to fade, feeling completely lost and aimless, reflecting on all the ways they left a mark on your life and the fond memories you’ll cherish forever, all the pain, anger and emptiness left in their absence. But as familiar as it all feels, no two instances of grief are ever the same. Everyone we lose leaves behind a different void in their wake, and we each of us are left to deal with it in our own way. This tale of loss is one that only Dan Zimmerman can tell, and he does so with the utmost grace, sincerity and tenderness.
For every stage of a relationship, from butterflies to heartbreak, there’s a wealth of love songs out there. Whatever fire is burning inside you, chances are there’s a track somewhere which expresses what’s in your heart better than you ever could. Those are the songs we gravitate towards, the ones which act as a mirror for our own feelings. Rarely though do we stop and think about the person on the other end, and what it would be like for someone to bear their soul before you in song. How it must feel to have a snapshot of someone’s love for you preserved for all time; an intoxicating high unlike any other. Written about falling for another songwriter, the new single from Lydia Kaseta is all too familiar with that feeling, and ultimately shares how hard it is to let it go. ‘Hate The Day’ details a fading relationship, and the inevitability that one day all those love songs will be about someone else. It’s such a unique and refreshing new angle, performed with real sincerity and expressiveness.
It can be hard to admit, both to yourself and others, when things are getting bad. You tell yourself that you’re on top of it when in reality you’re barely holding on treading water. You throw up walls and refuse help as it feels like admitting defeat, but deep down there’s a quiet little voice calling out for rescue. The thing about holding on is that everything is alright, right up until the moment that it’s not. Once you lose that tenuous grip it’s a long way to fall. With their debut single ‘Doctor’, Melbourne based artist Leo explores walking that razor’s edge with regards to anxiety, and how difficult it can be to accept help. How attaching definitions and putting labels on that nebulous mass you’ve been pushing down for so long makes it feel more real and harder to escape. It’s easier to live in ignorant bliss than feel like someone’s project to fix up, but the hardest things in life are often the most important choices we have to make. Leo’s delicate haunting vocals and visceral unflinching lyricism remind me deeply of Julien Baker at her very best, and I adore the track’s slow burn towards a tumultuous and cathartic climax.
We may have stepped across the threshold into a new year, but safe to say it doesn’t feel like the fresh start many of us were hoping for. The pandemic still drags its feet, and all those compromises, missed opportunities and days spent hoping for light at the end of the tunnel have taken their toll. With ‘Screen of Doubt’, singer/songwriter Kate Brewer addresses the part of our lives that has come under the most strain: the connections with those we care about. As the track details the exasperating sense of distance and disconnect that comes with talking through video chats and making plans that centre on the idea of “one day”, it would have been easy for ‘Screen of Doubt’ to be a mere reflection of grim reality. Instead the track offers a more hopeful perspective; thanks in no small part to the simply exquisite saxophone and vocals reminiscent of Carole King. How thinking of the details lost when not talking in person leads you to cherish the little things you take for granted – the sparkle in the eyes when they smile, the echo of their laughter. How “making plans for when the world is the world again” keeps the hope alive by reminding us that there’s something to hold on for.
It’s startling to think that we’re just a few months away from 2022 when most of us are still trying to process 2020. The days just seem to race by like grains of sand slipping between your fingers, and with each passing year seem to flow faster and faster. But by the time you realise just how caught you are within the relentless swirl of the hourglass, it’s already too late. With his new single ‘Afternoon Rebellion’, Boston based songwriter and producer Steve Rondo shares the fear and frustration that comes with wanting to stay awhile longer in each fleeting moment. It’s something that effects us all eventually, and is a phenomenon that has left its mark on many songs over the years, but on this track Steve really captures the anxiety that comes with looking too hard in either direction. Looking forward you realise all those dreary days spent wishing for the weekend have finally caught up with you. All those lingering fears of what the future holds that you pushed aside, those bridges that you left to cross some other day, those milestones that seemed like some distant dream – all now loom large and unavoidable in the path ahead of you. Looking back you catch a glimpse of each cherished memory, before it too falls from your grasp to become just another grain buried by all the days wasted, much as the song’s haunting delicate folk intro becomes eclipsed by the ever-growing arrangement to leave you lost in something both grand and bittersweet.
A lone wolf will howl up at the moon, its cries carrying for miles across dense forests, mountain peaks and frigid open tundra, in the hope of reaching those it cares about. Their bonds are so strong that distance doesn’t matter; when they need each other they will call out. It’s a beautiful notion, and one that we could stand to learn from, as when we feel at our most alone is usually when we fall quiet. There’s no calling out into the night, often not even a quick message, instead opting to suffer in silence. With his new single, mehro offers a glimpse into that sense of isolation. The restless nights, the tempestuous thoughts, the feeling of missing someone so much that you’re left treading water with no respite in sight. And yet, as everything comes crumbling down and your head sinks beneath the surface, you still can’t find the strength to say “I need you”. With its soft wistful folk arrangement, cold subtle electronics, and mehro’s own plaintive cries harmonising with haunting wolf howls, this stunning single offers some comfort in knowing we’re not alone in feeling alone.
No one is born bitter and jaded. When we first experience the world we do so with a steadfast sense of wonder. We see the best in ourselves and others, refuse to be divided down arbitrary lines, find joy in even the smallest things, and live our lives believing that anything is possible. And yet, little by little, the innocence and optimism in all of us gets eroded. Often the cracks form so slowly that you don’t even realise it, until one day your inner cynic becomes the dominant voice – you begin to see the worst in everything, and ultimately ask yourself “When did I first take for granted, Another sunset on this twisted planet?“. It’s as inevitable as the rising tide, but that doesn’t mean you have to succumb to it without a fight. With the soulful ‘Skeptic’s Angels’, singer/songwriter Rett Madison offers a poignant moment of mourning for her own faith and innocence lost and asks the question “is it too late to believe?“. Taken from her debut album Pin-up Daddy, it’s another fine example of the fine balance between fire and fragility that is walked by her astonishing vocals. For many of us it gets harder with every passing day to believe in something greater and have faith in the good in others, but sometimes we all need to take a leap of faith to keep the light shining just a little longer.
There are plenty of wonderfully emotive songs out there which perfectly capture a feeling, like joy, or love, or heartbreak, and lots of tracks that evoke a certain point in time, expressing the mood of certain seasons or reminiscent of past decades. But one less heard and underappreciated facets of songwriting that holds a place in my heart is the kind of song that manages to embody the spirit and character of a certain place. Music that echoes the symphony of nature, lyrics that can vividly describe a stunning vista, songs which offer an escape by whisking you away someplace else. The latest single from The Greatest Endangered Thing is perhaps the finest example I’ve heard all year. Paired beautifully with some stunning cinematography from filmmaker Brett Chapman, ‘Bramble Lane’ plays as an evocative love letter to the Peak District. There’s a haunting mystique that conjures up the feel of misty moorlands and dark gnarled woods; ancient and unchanging like something from a long forgotten legend. Yet there’s also an air of romanticism that calls to mind the morning sun rising over heather-clad hills, that evokes birdsong and bright clear skies, and brings with it that same sense of freedom and sanctuary that comes with being off the beaten path.
Often, despite our best intentions, life just gets in the way of the things we care about. We get so caught up in the day to day that we end up losing touch with people we hold dear, we get so wrapped up in hectic schedules that we don’t find the time to say what we’re really feeling. But then there are those rare occasions where we’re lucky enough to meet someone that inspires the opposite. A love so strong that you reach a point where the rest of the world is of no consequence, so long as you have each other. It doesn’t matter what anyone says or does to come between you, nor will you let any complication or expectations stand in the way. With a love like that you’d let the whole world fall to rust and ruin just for a few stolen moments together under the starlight. Such a tale of love and sacrifice lies at the heart of the latest single from Belwood favourite Ren Lawton. The first single from his upcoming debut album, the touching folk balladry of ‘Love By Night‘ speaks of a love that wins out against all the odds and in spite of all opposition, and offers a welcome reminder that beautiful things can still bloom in adversity.
I remember once reading a great quote that said that we fall in love the same way we fall asleep – slowly, and then all at once. Both offer a tantalising tingle of what’s to come as they gradually wear down your defences, but at some point, without you even realising it, the dam breaks and it all just washes over you and sweeps you away. Belwood favourite Natalie Shay returns to capture the feeling of the moment when butterflies become a tidal wave with her euphoric new single. ‘New Wave’ describes the sensation of those bubbling emotions that you’ve been questioning so long suddenly all making sense, and the excitement of starting a new chapter. When you put your doubts and fears aside and open your heart to someone new, and open you mind to imagine what this new love has in store. Fittingly this latest single is perhaps her most vibrant and effervescent offering yet, with Natalie having refined and perfected her uplifting 80s aesthetic. The synths shimmer brighter than ever, the captivating chorus is one of her most infectious yet, and its joyous groove will have you jumping up to dance in no time flat. This dazzling single skips the slow part of falling in love, and instead you’re caught in the rush right from the first listen.