“Ally is not a person,” writes Augusti PR. “Rather, it’s a place you go when you are sad as hell and need to listen to Bon Iver.”
The understated, minimalist sound of this heartfelt and ethereal single aptly meets this description. From the first few lonely strums of an acoustic guitar, Isabel Sondén, John Bergevald, and Filip Sjölander transport the listener to a time and place where they felt most vulnerable—Or, at least, that’s what this track did for me. The vocalist’s trembling soprano strikes the ear like a murmur; both the lyrics and the language of the included press release give an air of awkwardness, something all too familiar for those of us who grew up ostracized from peers for one reason or another.
“Ally came into our life
when we were sleeping half the time
She brought her friend because
she fears the others wouldn’t understand”
Allowing the strings of their guitars to ring out into an otherworldly echo, Isobel captures the sonic equivalent of one’s final thoughts for the day before drifting off to sleep. The melancholy narrative of social isolation and the silent pain it brings weaves through the soul, bringing me back to a time when a little boy-to-be huddled under his blankets and cried upon realizing how little those around him genuinely cared for what made him unique. As distant, gentle electric guitar plucks in a note by note to build up to the song’s distorted, amplified latter half, I’m reminded of the times I had been shouted down for my love of video games (to give one example of many), because “employers don’t care if you’re good at games.” (What a thing to say to a ten-year-old.)
To delve into the finer details of this song from a theory perspective, something evident from the first four chords of its opening shows a strategic use of dissonance. Shifting one note of each chord at a time while transitioning to the next gives the music an unsteady, stumbling vibe, befitting the state Isobel means to convey. That same unsteadiness present in the opening’s acoustic guitar gives the electrified ending a more striking, growling quality, as if something mumbled under one’s breath earlier has finally been spoken more loudly. The song’s only percussion comes from the strumming of strings, further adding to this wrong-footed feeling to significant effect; the sound brings to mind the sheer impossibility of trying to run or throw a punch in the depths of a dream.
Something interesting to note regarding “Ally” is that the song already has a music video; while it’s not yet released to the public, having only been shown at Snövit in Stockholm with a live show, a preview is available on Augusti PR’s info page. The music video mainly spoke to my own personal experiences with isolation and the depression it causes, to the point where, at certain moments, I shut my eyes tight in an effort to avoid those painful mental scars re-opening. Something about the protagonist’s hesitant yet distinct smile and the little toy dog on a leash at her side trying and failing to reach out and make connections brings the same sordid memories back to me in a flood; it’s pairing with “Ally” makes for a veritable and effective one-two punch to the base of my heart.
In only two and a half minutes, Isobel’s use of minimalism in instrumentation, the sound of the windmill scene, and haunting yet tender vocals deliver something that speaks beyond the ears and into the soul. “Ally” is the perfect song to bring catharsis in the depths of one’s darkest and most painful times, be they far in the past or the torturous present. For those who choose to occupy this space with me and many others, a place outside the bounds of time and space where one is free to spill their guts through tears into a tissue or sleeve, know that you are in like company and in this lovely little group’s good hands.
(And to the band, as a humorous aside: I would like my jeans back. I only have the one pair, and they’re pretty nice. I miss them, please return them safely.)
Written by Alexei Lee
