Scrivener delivers once again with their latest‘Nuclear Winter in Our Hometowns’. An amalgamation of life, from the hopeful idea of love to the soul-crushing pain of death and heartbreak, it’s almost like a patchwork quilt, each song telling a different story but working extraordinarily well together to complete the whole book.
Opening up to us is ‘No One on the Road’. For a starting song, it’s definitely intriguing. An answerphone conversation, courtesy of Liam Curley, set to the backdrop of softly strummed acoustic guitars. Although, as the song draws to a close, it gets increasingly more challenging to make out precisely what’s being said as the instruments drown out Curley’s soft-spokeness.
You don’t quite know who the conversation is directed to, perhaps an old friend or lover, but you get the gist that it’s about returning home, which establishes the themes of the album – home and the past. The whole of ‘Nuclear Winter in Our Hometowns’ focuses on this. Soaked in the memories and regrets, it’s an album for those who are still searching for who and what home is.
At one minute and fifty seconds, it certainly packs a lot into its short timeframe and leaves you desperate to hear what comes next.
The next four are very special indeed. We start with ‘Snowbound,’ whose transition from its predecessor is flawless. Jaunty and fast-paced, it reminds me of something that you’d hear in a Wes Anderson film. That is to say that it’s nostalgic and slightly whimsical, especially with the presence of Jessica Wang’s violins that are heard throughout the whole album. The track truly finds itself around the two-minute mark, when it transforms into a pure, euphoric alchemy of sound. Dedicated to a partner, specifically one that you know won’t be in your life forever, “you taste like I will let you down, there’s a mix of hope and fear, trying to enjoy it while it lasts, even armed with the knowledge that it will all come tumbling down around you.
‘Disappearing Ink’ takes on a much more melancholic route, with Bart Comegys’ vocals being more tired than what’s been heard.
Grief runs rampant here with it being the song’s focus“the night too heavy for your eyelids, they said you’d never wake/all I know is how you died now but nothing else remains” and how it’s something which Comegys now has to live with after the death of someone close to him “all this sorrow, grief and longing hanging off me like a sick stench.” The band’s shield has been removed, reminding us how vulnerable and fragile life truly is. Here one moment, gone the next, but Aaron Keith’s bass brings us back down to Earth after the cluster of instruments that perfectly symbolise what grief does to a person.
Comebys is undeniably a fantastic singer, and this is just proven by ‘No Kiss at Midnight’ and ‘Altamont’ with his tender voice; you can’t help but be swept up into the heart of both songs, especially with Chloe Deely’s backing vocals truly elevating them to the next level. Both songs are gentle, especially with ‘Altamont’’s bare-bones, the vocals and folky guitars being the stars of the show, tinged with synthesisers that slowly fade into the background as it progresses.
‘No Kiss at Midnight’ is about crushing on a friend. Wanting desperately to taste the forbidden fruit but knowing that you never will for fear of ruining whatever the two of you have going on.
There’s a hint of resentment within the track, masking the pain. I like the resentment; it allows you to understand just how much pain this unrequited feeling causes. Comb, eyes, and you’re also able to see your own experiences reflected at you. I think that’s why I adore‘Nuclear Winter in Our Hometowns’ so much, there’s a song to describe every emotion, it can be put on whenever and still encompass your situation, no matter what’s happening.
My one qualm with this song is that sudden change from ‘Disappearing Ink’ takes a minute to get used to, but it’s easy enough to overlook, especially with the quartet’s lyricism, which has always been a strong point. One of my favourites includes ‘No Kiss at Midnight’s very own “please I won’t fuck it up this time.” It truly showcases how much pain losing the one you love through your own carelessness causes, a pain that runs deep in the album’s blood.
‘Down East, Dead Low’ marks the halfway point, and what a track to do it with. First released as a single, indie-rock comes to life here. The rampant guitars (Matthew Alvarado-Ross) get your head nodding along to the beat, demonstrating that it’s earned its title as one of the strongest songs off the whole of ‘Nuclear Winter in Our Hometowns’.
The upbeat melody balances out the downbeat vibes, keeping the track flowing smoothly and you hooked. The upbeat nature lends the song an air of summer, providing a nice break from the seemingly endless Winter.
Bleaked perfectly paired with Harry Pesce’s drums and Patrick McPherson’s pedal steel alongside the low growl of the bass.
The tune is yearning for something, maybea connection or the misplaced optimism of youth. You can make your own interpretations, which is the beautiful thing about this album and music as a whole; hidden parts of yourself are reflected within, and ‘Down East, Dead Low’ acts like a comforting hug on the bad days.
An exploration of styles and tempo, the next three are among the core building blocks of the LP. ‘Seeds’ and ‘Harmful interactions’ are sad. Their sadness weaves the threads of the rich tapestry of the tracks. The haunting vocals stay with you long after it’s ended, and the latter’s string (Jessica Wang and Hannah Kim (cello)) alongside the wailing trumpet (Christine Emery) truly heightens the sadness. Although ‘Seeds’ and ‘In From a Blizzard’ do help to counteract this despair. While sadness is a key part in the former, hope is too. The group vocals come as a surprise, chanting the lines “you are enough,h and you are loved” over and over again, reminding you of this message, which is often forgotten in today’s world.
‘In From a Blizzard’ sounds like Frightened Rabbit, specifically their debut ‘The Midnight Organ Fight’. Honest and infused with passion, the Massachusetts band fills me with ease that the future of music is in capable hands.
Two very different openings, one with the squeak of a door and the other a beautiful string arrangement, they take on two very different routes.‘Grand Street Openings’ is tentative, like it’s scared of misstepping and ruining this superbly curated album. Each word hangs in the air, demanding to be given the time that it deserves. Refreshing, emotive but not so much that you get lost in the chaos, and with vocals similar to the ones heard in ‘Disappearing Ink’. Meanwhile, ‘Midnight Mass’’ engulfs you into the album not only with its frenziness and evocative imagery “just a death that still respires/she is rising early for her labors like a prayer” but it’s about you.
Both strong and lovely to listen to, they lead you on brilliantly to the finale ‘State Lines’.
For fans of bands such as I Was a Cub Scout, ‘State Lines’ folk sound and general bleakness wrap up the album flawlessly. Not as energetic as some of the others, it doesn’t need to be. It’s special in its own way and stands out from the crowd, which is why I love it.
A timeless album and one that deserves to get played and then played some more. ‘Nuclear Winter in Our Hometowns paints Scrivener in a new and glittery light. Resonating deeply with listeners, I can’t wait to see what comes next for the four-piece.
Written by Madi Briggs
