The road which led i give my friends flowers (the artistic pseudonym adopted by multi-instrumentalist, singer/songwriter, producer and engineer Jacob Klein, accompanied by a fluid line-up of friends) to DOGSTAR 1 (and indeed its forthcoming sister album, DOGSTAR 2) has been long and hard.
Through natural disasters, deaths, broken relationships and relocations, Jacob has managed to pluck enough inspiration to have composed something – some might say unsurprisingly, given the circumstances – characterful, compelling and captivating.
The artist says the project was “born out of a simple conviction: tomorrow isn’t promised”. It also feels like the concept of forced change sculpted, or moulded, the material here. It comes across as the sound of an artist reacting and responding to circumstances beyond his control. Whether it’s Hurricane Helene – “the ‘1,000-year flood’ that tore through Asheville, North Carolina, upending a community Jacob had only recently begun to call home” or realising that a romantic relationship had also been rendered irreparable shortly after the unexpected death of his young pet – this album has been forged in darkness and bred from despair. Yet, against the odds, it doesn’t feel overbearingly depressing or despondent. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that there are little (but undeniable) glimmers of light to look for and to bathe in, to cherish and enjoy.
The album starts with EVERY MOMENT SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL DIES, and I know what you’re thinking based on the title alone, but hang on before you pass judgement. It opens softly, glistening like beads of sweat forming on the forehead of a lover. Perspiring as the percussion kicks in, it blooms into life, coming into focus slowly, but surely. An atmospheric soundscape backdrop sets the scene as Jacob begins to paint on top of it with his words and phrasing. He ponders if he “will ever really be alone” (which is some of the light I alluded to earlier) before then going on to ask – in almost the same breath – “will I ever really feel like I belong”. Musically, it’s reminiscent of post-High Violet The National. Vocally, there’s really no comparison that I can think of. Perhaps Gary Lightbody is the closest reference point – but with much more range (his beautiful falsetto moments are an absolute joy).
This is followed by pollen, which gives off strong 070 Shake and 808s & Heartbreaks vibes as it begins, due in no small part to its use of auto-tune and the somewhat cinematic scope of the songwriting (a theme that will recur over the course of the album). Very quickly, it becomes eerie, electronic and immersive. Drive soundtrack synths, gentle keys, Kanye-esque vocal sample stings and Bon Iver-like glitches dominate the landscape as the personality of the record begins to take shape and envelop you in its rich tapestry and variety of sound. Lyrically, it’s stark, introspective and honest. Lines like “found no peace with changing my environment / and when I leave I wonder why I did” crystallise Jacob’s feelings of desolation and uncertainty, and moments like “processing what I’ve been holding in” offer insight into his ability to reflect and self-analyse, a critical life skill, often learned the hard way – as was the case here. To offer further context, Jacob explains that in the aftermath of Hurricane Helene whilst providing “mutual aid work and checking in on neighbors and friends, (I) found myself confronting something I hadn’t expected: how much interior devastation I’d been carrying quietly, and for how long”. This track feels like that realisation coming to life and it spilling out into song.
cloud-hidden, chamomile is up next. After a slow start, it eventually becomes, potentially, the most buoyant the album has been thus far. On this one, the combination of auto-tune and musical styling reminds us more of Bon Iver’s work than anyone else’s. Musically, this is a pop song at its core. But it’s a pop song filtered through an arty, contemplative lens which results in something eminently listenable but also, at times, rather uncomfortable feeling. Lines like “my old ways of thinking still come for me / I’m mad as hell at nobody but me” feel like diary entries. Entries that you feel like you shouldn’t be reading, but you’re glad that you did.
BABY FELL IN LOVE WITH A STAR is almost funky as it gets underway and makes us immediately retract our prior statement about the previous song’s buoyancy. Glitchy and off-kilter but with a definite beat and unmistakable self-assurance, it sashays into our headspace like a Charli xcx on a good hair day (which, let’s face it, is clearly every day). Aspects of this remind us of our own Kinda Grizzly extended family, Harry Heart, and his more experimental and ambitious work (see his album Cambistry and his duet with Strange Method label mate Hayden J Barlow for examples of this). It sounds a bit like how a collaboration between Prince, Tricky and The Japanese House may have sounded if you can imagine such a thing. As for the words, Jacob pours out his heart as well as the contents of his brain on this one. I recommend reading along with the lyrics whilst you listen, as to dissect them here would probably not do them justice. The one thing I will highlight here is the line “feeling strange again / but I know in my heart everyone is going through it”, which acts as a bit of a balm for the soul that we as listeners have been so worried about up until this point. It seems that Jacob is trying to reason and rationalise with himself – he’s not alone in the way he feels. He is not an island. Something that is well worth remembering when you feel like you’re at your worst.
sara’s not a name for dogs begins with what feels like a series of non sequiturs. Fairly quickly, they reveal themselves to actually be tools that Jacob is setting a scene with. “Open-faced, oreo, canvas shorts, diet coke, Lincoln town car, summer snows, desert winters, heart and soul” – instantly you’re transported somewhere else. Where exactly is not entirely clear, but it feels like somewhere you want to be. The balance of instruments on this one is particularly striking. It sees the acoustic and electronic elements blending seamlessly to spawn one living, breathing, beautiful tune that feels in keeping with the rest of the record, but also, like the album’s most unique moment yet.
jambs (page 39) follows and should – by rights – feature an Allen Ginsberg co-write credit. Ostensibly a reading of the majority of his poem “America” it acts as a bit of an interlude or palette cleanser (I imagine this is where side 2 on the physical releases – available to order here, by the way – might start). A deadpan delivery, a sparse piano accompaniment with an incidental noise background, this is quietly scenic and subtly emotive, and it lulls you into a false sense of security as you end up thinking you know what to expect from this record before surprising you with what’s to come next.
ASHES reverts back to relying heavily on auto-tuned vocals and electronic instrumentation. It feels most like indie/alt R&B before taking on the shape of acts like Nova Amour and perhaps Sampha. In time, the vocal becomes rather hip-hoppy, with a rapid-fire- but still laid-back- delivery that incorporates (quite wonderfully) the Arabic phrase “تبات نار تصبح رماد” (“Tebat nar tosbeh ramad”), which – according to an unnamed popular search engine – is a popular Egyptian proverb meaning “it stays a fire overnight, by morning it turns to ashes” – how fitting. This phrase is apparently used to express that problems, anger, or crises eventually calm down and fade into nothingness with time. This vocal passage gives way in due course to crystalline acoustic guitar strings and the return of delicate sung vocals. It’s worth noting there are two performers credited as providing vocals on this song. Klein, as per, but also an artist named foraging. Presumably this accounts for the sudden divergence in vocal style.
The rather verbosely titled FANG (my world, a symphony, my heart, a comedy, a tragedy, my love) follows and is largely instrumental. Sparse but striking, the song is seemingly made up of subtly sparkling synths, steady drums, soft keys, and spoken-word vocals (part of a sampled wedding vow, in fact). The entire song’s lyrics are as follows:
“We vow to understand and recognize that our meeting and connection is the result of each of our lifetimes’ worth of happenstance and choices. Which, had any of them been different, our paths might have led elsewhere.”
This feels overtly philosophical and immensely personal, but, funnily enough, is something that I’ve often pondered myself. How decisions – or indeed mistakes – that we make can lead us, eventually, to a place we are happy to end up residing. If we’re lucky.
The next track starts with sounds that remind us of Fred Again.. and Brian Eno’s collaboration album Secret Life. Wolf Heart is imbued with an alt R&B meets Volcano Choir vibe that’s potent and precious. Fiercely individualistic in its approach, it simultaneously feels like it could’ve been a single but also that it would be incredibly unmarketable due to its staunchly single-minded stance. How’s that for striking a balance?
When I See the Moon is up next, which opens with gentle piano with a backing of barely-there synth pads. When the vocal kicks in, it dials up the weird with the addition of abstract background noises and – somewhat surprisingly – pounding drums, both atmospheric and anthemic; it doesn’t so much soar as it does imperceptibly levitate, growing in stature gradually as it proceeds. It leads us nicely into VOICES, which opens with uncharacteristically distorted guitar chords that are soon complemented by a twinkly arpeggio. It feels instantly like we’ve entered a different space or ascended to a new plain on this one. This is almost shoegaze, definitely dreampop, and a little reminiscent of our own Mannequin Flowers. It also boasts one of the catchiest (but also simplest and straight-up) choruses on the record. “Voices, in my head, voices in my head, what you said” – it goes, and it simplifies something that, in fact, can be extremely complicated and nuanced.
The album closes with better days, a sombre piece that goes stratospheric, but only in its own sweet time. It begins gently, operating in a similar arena to artists like James Blake, and it eventually concludes after it reaches its Mike Dean-esque/MBDTF-style apex – revelling in sonic fireworks and audible theatrics. On its way there, it touches on classic songwriting structures whilst also incorporating ethereal altered vocals (as is his wont) alongside light-touch music decoration and embellishments.
And with that, it’s over. The album has been a voyage through one man’s mind, heart and soul. From the ashes grew something beautiful, like a rose from cracks in the concrete. We will eagerly await part 2.
Written by Black Rainbow Collective
