The title track opens the record, “a rich and fond slice of folk rock which blooms like a slow-dawning epiphany,” as we described previously, “Orchard’s vocals building in conviction along with the rhythm, as though emerging through long years-worth of accumulated doubts to embrace a preferred state of being.” ‘Nothing Fog’ follows, using what we called “a decidedly sincere style” to “explore a sense of uncertainty, its confessional tone unafraid of revealing its own vulnerabilities and loss of confidence,” while ‘Pale Blue’ builds upon this compassionate style with a picture of fondness and longing with backing vocals by Jess Kerber. Living up to its title ‘It Took Me So Long To See I Was Not Here At All’ continues with equal parts questioning and gradual insight, again the tempo lifting as the song progresses as though Orchard is finding strength through its very delivery.

It took me so long to see I was not here at all
In my selfie camera a transparent fading doll
Prick my finger
Drink my blood
Make me feel something
Wake me up

Which is not to say this path to fulfillment is linear and ever-improving. “I feel so damn nervous / Like there’s cracks in the floor / And the whole world’s a stranger / Knocking at my door,” Orchard sings on the hushed, hesitant ‘Moonfall’, a mood echoed on ‘Together Alone’. After these songs, the earthy ‘Something’s Gotta Go’ arrives like a newfound determination to work. A song which, as we put it, “finds Orchard with his sleeves rolled up as he digs through the dirt. Crunchy Americana meets Neil Young folk rock which sees him picks through internal knots and tangles that have been tripping him up over the years.” In the end, it is closer ‘Down‘ which suggests a viable path forward. “A dream-folk track which preaches the benefits submission within an overwhelming world,” we wrote back in April, “complicating the lines between playfulness, sadness and acquiescence.” A fitting conclusion to a record which doesn’t pretend to have the answers, only displays the value asking honest questions all the same.

I get lost in a maze
And I just lay down
I don’t want to be found

Behind The Shadow Glass is out now and available from the Will Orchard Bandcamp page.

Cover art by Adi Dahlke

The post Will Orchard – Behind The Shadow Glass appeared first on Various Small Flames.

“captur[es] the absurd change of focus required from athletes after calling it a day (ie. going from spending every minute optimising your running/kicking/punching and feeling existentially justified, to having nothing to do except feel worthless and existentially exposed)”

This self-titled follow-up is apparently the project’s swan song, which certainly adds a bit of weight to the boom-and-bust boxing tales Mrs. Hopewell favours. And boom-and-bust this certainly is, with the tagline to the seven-song release reading: “3 fighters, 2 suicide attempts, and 1 crate of military-grade morphine tucked in the back of a warehouse in Los Angeles”. Doesn’t get much more of a rollercoaster ride than that.

Although, if this is a rollercoaster ride then it takes place on a long and confusing track where all the climbs are in the past. Opener ‘Hitman’ sets the tone, telling of a retired pugilist who’s dotting the i’s and crossing the t’s of his life as if it’s almost done.

“I hung up the gloves once I
Told you I loved you
I called up my exes I told them the same
Take out two bottles of gin and vermouth
I fold up my note after signing my name
Tuck it into my pocket and twist off the caps
I’ll blackout one last time tonight”

However, no matter how much he teeters, the life doesn’t end there. The closing of the track finds him vomiting the poison and tearing up the note and dreaming of his love. ‘You Came to Me in a Lucid Dream’ follows with the closest we come to an upward spin, the narrator deciding that a hard life is better than no life (“It wells up / And pulls me down / Drags me out / Kicks me around / But it’s better than nothing / Than being underground”), and ‘Seven Month Twitch’ is a song on pining for old acquaintances, no matter how risky or dangerous (“You’re an itch I need to scratch”). ‘TBS… Very Funny’ sees doubt and regret return, a feeling of ever-expanding emptiness which colours everything it’s hollow shade of grey.

“Alone again and what’s the use
I’ll never love and that’s the truth
I’ll never find someone who gets me through
Did I ever love a single thing
A harpsichord or minor things
A game a man a drink or something else”

‘The Legend of the Pittsburgh Kid’ is flat and sad and sapped of life, the narrator drowning in a blend of nostalgia and regret, and ‘Dealer finds him trying to escape through distance or distraction or narcotic deadening. His view of the person he loves is so entwined with drugs it’s difficult to tell whether his longing is genuine or linked with further self-destruction, and the closing track does little to clear this up. ‘We’ll Win Cos We’re On God’s Side’, full of promises and relapses and remedies, is all about giving up – be it on drugs or life or even just giving up on the quitting itself, embracing the romantic tragedy of a hero careering towards the ground in flames.

‘”I promise Lou this will be my last hit and then I’m done for good
I told my baby I’m off this stuff
Our deal is understood”

“But maybe just one more”

“No, I am an American hero”‘

Fans of Alex G, Elvis Depressedly and The Hotelier should be mourning the end of Mrs. Hopewell’s lo-fi emo-pop. Take solace by grabbing the album now from the Mrs. Hopewell Bandcamp page.

The post Mrs. Hopewell – s/t appeared first on Various Small Flames.