We previewed the self-titled album from Vancouver rock band Summering back in March, when we got excited to hear a new project from Paul Stewart: a folky and slightly unearthly bedroom artist we had been fans of for a long time. Stewart is just one member of the five that make up Summering, but it was enough to grab our attention. Here’s what we said all those months ago:
“The album takes the formula of Stewart’s previous releases and stretches it panoramic, bedroom pop on a mountainous scale, a departure from his norms in all the right ways. The band build dense layers of guitar which, paired with rumbling bass and crashing drums, create something imposing, a monolith rising through the fog.”
The great news is that the full album has now been released, and the promise saw at the start of the year has been realised. Eight songs of dense indie rock which borrow as much from the cathartic peaks of post-rock as they do from the slow and spectral sound we’ve come to associate with Stewart. We begin with ‘In Linear’, with it’s slow and considered start, all open spaces and dark winding guitars and Stewart’s signature vocals. The “choruses” spike with heavier instrumentation, our first taste of the album’s post-rock tendencies, while the gentler verses are full of lines like:
“You always cover the receiver with your hand
why don’t you want them to listen
why don’t you want them to understand?”
[bandcamp width=100% height=120 album=3480959305 size=large bgcol=ffffff linkcol=0687f5 tracklist=false artwork=small track=4065575276]
‘LAFK’ opens with almost martial drumbeat before the advent of inky and slinky guitars, eventually blooming into a track which fuses a sheer rock passion with emotive vocals and reflective air of something else entirely, bringing to mind earlier Winterlseep releases and particular the music of Brian Borcherdt’s Dusted project. The song is punctuated by moments of almost pure silence, where the only sound is the receding reverb of the previous burst of instrumentation, a sound you can’t be sure doesn’t exist only in your inner ear. Eventually things build to a pinnacle, ending in a furious cacophony of pounding percussion and squealing guitars. ‘Careful Creators’ gathers itself and then comes crashing to life, the vocals sad and oddly serene, floating in during the intervals between the noise (“To be alive is to be alone”).
The title track is a patient and vaguely ominous song, guitars rolling in like surf on an abandoned shore, while ‘x’ shakes things up with its shimmering, shifting ambience, like ice crystals gliding through the great black expanse of outer space. A discordant clang announces the arrival of ‘Temporary Widow’, which has shades of Explosions in the Sky, epic crests of feedback and pummelled drums surrounding the soaring vocals like a big staticky storm cloud. ‘Concrete Plans’ marches out of a drone that sounds like some kind of cosmic wind, the drums holding a rhythm that feels almost heavy rock.
“Under someone else’s concrete plans
you’re not even a name
or the print of your own hand
you become so dependent”
[bandcamp width=100% height=120 album=3480959305 size=large bgcol=ffffff linkcol=0687f5 tracklist=false artwork=small track=695668401]
Finale ‘Words’ is epic and reverberating, stretching over the nine minute mark and enduring all manner of tumult in its duration. It converges into perhaps the heaviest maelstrom on the entire album, before descending into a lull at the very finish, just sparse guitar and Stewart’s vocals, like the strange glowing hush in aftermath of a tempest.
“It’s alright if your words
don’t come as easily to you
if everything is overheard
maybe they’re not supposed to”
This is an album that has it all. It’s pretty easy to turn to cloying metaphors to describe the sense of vast space it conjures, the poignancy or Stewart’s vocals, the pure tangible noise that the band can summon. It takes a little bit of everything and melts them down into something that’s quite unique. Something that is quite distinctly Summering.
You can get Summering now via the Summering Bandcamp page.