The opening track of Seattle-based musician Brad Freeman’s SloNewsLife debut EP is somewhat of a chameleonic prospect.
Catherine begins as a gentle anti-folk sing-along. A tapestry made of gentle vocals, acoustic guitar, banjo, and ethereal atmospherics, it paints quite a picture. All sepia-toned, well-worn, weathered, and frayed. About as far from the typical, frantic – rather trite – Mumford & Sons-style of banjo playing as you can get, the instrument adds a melancholy touch of class here. Strummed with consideration, intent, and grace, without it, we would wager the song would feel completely different. It’s hard to imagine. For the final 40 seconds or so, Catherine descends into sonic chaos with thick distortion used for the first time to significant effect. With the addition of a subtle female backing vocal, it feels a bit like an amalgamation of the songs contained on the Bright Eyes & Son, Ambulance split release, Oh, Holy Fools – as well as the Conor Oberst/Phoebe Bridgers project Better Oblivion Community Centre. Good company indeed.
This is followed by The Museum of Ghosts and Sound, which keeps the vibe going. The indie folk of Iron & Wine springs to mind, as does the less glitchy Bon Iver stuff and the rootsier work of Bill Callahan. In a similar way to how the banjo was employed on the opening track, a harmonica is used here in a quite atypical manner, sometimes sparse and sorrowful, sometimes stark and striking; lyrically, it’s dripping with sentiment and earnestness. The resulting song is a somber piece that comes across a bit like a crumbling lullaby.
Soolong is the most emotive piano-led ballad thus far. Again, the atmospheric elements are very noticeable, and they undoubtedly play a huge part in setting the scene here. The artist notes: “these songs include little silence and no soundproof walls, opting instead to mix sounds–both intentional and accidental–from different decades, seasons, rooms, and materials. You can absolutely hear that over the course of the EPs four songs, but none more so than here. The environment in which the music was recorded almost feels like an instrument itself, given its prominence and relevance. The song culminates in a conversation between the author’s grandmother and great-grandmother about a memorial parade that no longer exists, adding a lovely personal touch.
The last track is the title track. In science fiction, an ansible is “a device for instantaneous communication, or other purposes, across cosmic distances.” The beginning of the track features a lone, harshly recorded acoustic guitar. It echoes as it’s thrashed at, creating sensations of discomfort and solitude. Freeman goes on to sing about “calling the dead into living,” and it all feels undeniably morose. Then, a Rhodes organ-like sound is introduced, and the song begins to feel almost hymnal. The solemnity is bolstered by lyrics like “do you remember the time, I was 10, maybe 9 / you got up, out of bed but you did not open your eyes / and you swore to me, we were all going to die”. Pretty dark. But, through the haze of despair, if you search thoroughly enough, there is beauty. What started out sounding rather isolating ends up morphing into a heartfelt communique. Whilst obviously very personal, the song touches on tough universal truths and should, in turn, speak to all of us. Thus, the ansible has well and truly served its purpose and will surely move even the hardest of hearts.
Written by Kinda Grizzly
