I recently stumbled upon a discussion between the writers Don DeLillo and Jonathan Franzen, a recording from an event back in 2012. DeLillo is one of those super-important people for me, one of a small crowd that seem to be speaking to me as an individual through their art. This, coupled with an appreciation of Franzen, has me pressing play without a second thought. During the introduction, by a host whose name I didn’t recognize, a thought hit me. I had never heard DeLillo speak. Sure, I had ‘heard’ his voice, something that has played a not-so-insignificant role in deciding who I wanted to be, but I had never listened to the man speak. I was flooded with uneasiness, the cliché of never meeting your heroes extending to the very cadences of a man’s speech. What if the real man was not the Don that I knew so well? What if I had been alone all along? Being curious and/or fatalistic, I of course watched the video. It turned out that Don DeLillo’s real-world voice is very similar to my own head’s version. I experienced a buzz upon realising this, as if the sound of his voice was another confirmation that the connection I feel to him is a real and meaningful one.
A similar thing happens whenever an artist you particularly like releases new work. Much of the appreciation a listener/reader/viewer feels is based around this connection with the artist, a sense that the person sees the world in a similar way. Anything that reinforces this relationship feels like a confirmation. This person really does think like me.
And so we (finally) get to the review. Timothy Showalter’s Strand of Oaks is one of my musical equivalents of Don DeLillo. His previous albums Leave Ruin, Pope Killdragon and Dark Shores have all, to varying degrees, been important to me, and I have waited for the new album, HEAL, with a mixture of excitement and trepidation, especially given Showalter’s comments in interviews that he didn’t like Dark Shores. [Did the fact that he didn’t like what I liked mean I wouldn’t like what he did? Was the connection going to be broken?]
Despite the music of Strand of Oaks always confronting various issues and problems, so far it has often been through the use of metaphor or fantastical settings (Dark Shores centred around space as a symbol for isolation and loneliness, Leave Ruin had a love affair between a priest and nun, Pope Killdragon had giants and Dan Aykroyd and the ghost of John Kennedy). With HEAL, Showalter stated that he was going to more direct, stating explicitly the things that were causing him grief.
The album’s opening track, ‘Goshen ’97,’ serves as a prelude to Showalter’s strife, a childhood where he was ’rotting in the basement’ before he was ‘fat, drunk and mean,’ with ‘everything [see: trouble] still out ahead.’ It’s a great description of growing up in the 90s that’s infused with a positivity and longing that I associate with thoughts of childhood.
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By the second track, the real problems have hit and the lyrics are sort of looking backwards, the refrain coming across as Present Day Showalter instructing Ground Zero Showalter. ’You gotta heal’ he insists over and over, suggesting that while destruction and self-harm might feel good, they can never be helpful in the long run. The rest of the album continues this mix of anguish and hope, with (very) loud, almost metal-esque guitars, Showalter’s distinctive vocals proving the perfect vessel.
‘Shut In’ captures a sense of isolation/hopelessness without the need for any space metaphors, stating “I was born in the middle, made it too late, everything good had been made.” ‘Mirage Year’ confronts his wife’s affair in stark detail “He asked you about movies, he asked about your day, you showed him in the mirror what was ours.” ‘For Me’ sees the guitars turned up for a song that boils and boils before bubbling over with the desperate refrain “and the sun fell right out of the sky.” ‘JM’ is the current stand out track, a mammoth midway point which serves as a tribute to the late, great Jason Molina. Showalter describes numerous negative scenarios and feelings (with little Molina references scattered around), capping each off with the refrain ’I had your sweet tunes to play.’ Molina helped him through, Molina healed him. This offers a nice parallel to what I said about the importance of artists, and it reinforces that sense of connection for the listener. Showalter has turned to music in order to feel a little less alone too. This person really does think like me.
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Reading these descriptions you might expect the album to be an angry one. Catharsis through rage, antagonistic and dark and unforgiving. But what makes the album special is how the situations and emotions described are not portrayed as simple, clear-cut things. Yes he is angry, but he is also sad and frustrated and loving. He’s ashamed yet defiant, nostalgic but glad to have moved on. It is Her fault but also His. All great art attempts to describe the paradoxes and double binds of existence, because to attribute binary descriptions of our circumstances and emotions is to flatten the very best things about being human. Showalter’s comments in the press release from label Dead Oceans sums this up nicely:
“There’s an uncertainty to ‘HEAL’ that makes me nervous and excited at the same time. It’s sad, but it sounds like a celebration, like I’m crying and laughing and sticking both middle fingers in the air all at the same time.”
HEAL is out now via Dead Oceans, and you can buy it here.