Issue 6: Comfort Albums
Reviewing albums from Metric, Laura Veirs, and more!
Welcome back to Band Practice where I listen to a new album every day and share my favorites with you. This week, we’re diving into two albums (I couldn’t choose): Formentera from Metric and Found Light from Laura Veirs. This issue also features a special guest review of the new album from Widowspeak, as well as a new segment called “Pressed for Time!” where I briefly review excellent EPs I’ve listened to. This week it’s Sevdaliza’s Raving Dahlia. Let’s get started!
Intro
When we’re going through difficult times, we all have our go-to’s that make us feel better: comfort food, comfort movies, and comfort albums. Some of my comfort albums are No Need To Argue from The Cranberries, Teaser And The Firecat from Cat Stevens, Takk… from Sigur Rós, and anything from Simon & Garfunkel. Comfort albums transport us to a safe space. They may be nostalgic and remind of us of a time where things were good for even just a little bit, or they might bring us to someplace new entirely—giving us respite from reality. They soothe, they heal; they are bandaids and security blankets.
My last two top album picks weren’t exactly comfortable. 070 Shake’s You Can’t Kill Me was a bit avant-garde, and Perfume Genius’ Ugly Season was avant-garder. But, this week’s top picks—I hope—should be easier to listen to. To me, both albums stood out because they felt nostalgic and comforting. This is partly because my history with these artists goes back quite a ways.
I’ve been listening to Metric since college when I would try to find ways to illegally download their songs in the post-Napster world-wide-wilderness. The voice of Emily Haines (Metric’s front-woman) has become somewhat of a security blanket to me. Her solo album “Choir of the Mind” came out right before I was in a car accident several years ago. I kept that album on repeat afterward and it was exactly what I needed at the time.
I’ve also been following Laura Veirs’ music since college (another point for nostalgia). I remember seeing her live at the Showbox in Seattle where—if I remember correctly—she performed with nothing but her voice, her guitar, and looping. Her voice is another that has always felt like balm to the soul. If you listen to her album, I think you’ll see what I mean.
The artists in this issue may have different sounds, but what they have in common is that they all take care of their listeners—nothing is too weird or unbearable. Even the slightly peculiar Sevdaliza has a warmth underlying her darker sound. Though they may be new to you, I hope these albums come to feel familiar and comforting in their own ways. Maybe one of them will become a new favorite that you’ll revisit years from now and, when you do, you will remember how you felt when you first listened to it. I hope so.
What are some of your go-to comfort albums? Let me know in the comments.
Picks of the week
Formentera - Metric
Alternative
I think it’s safe to say that current Metric fans will love this album but, for new listeners, Formentera is the perfect introduction. No album better encapsulates the breadth of their catalogue. In Formentera, Metric stays true to their electronic and new-wave infused brand of rock while evolving their sound into something bigger than ever before witnessed—delivering some truly spectacular moments. And for spectacular moments, we needn’t look further than the opening track: “Doomscroller.” (Indulge me while I spend a some extra time on it—it’s deserving.)
“Doomscroller” is the most epic and beautiful song Metric has ever written. At over ten minutes long, it doesn’t just feel like a song, it feels like a movie—one that is so engrossing that you’ll forget time has passed at all. It tells the story of someone doomscrolling through the internet, inundated by negative news, finding themselves addicted to it, and falling into rabbit hole after rabbit hole. “I'm a true doomscroller. I can't seem to shut it down until the worst is over, and it's never over,” Haines sings. Pulsing electronic instrumentation conveys a dark, seedy, Matrix-like landscape.
This song is a great example of Metric’s masterful ability to play with tension. We see this as the song shifts back and forth from a high-energy nightclub sound to soft interludes with a piano and Haines’ vocals. The tension is pushed as if it is edging toward the ledge of a waterfall until it drops off into a cool pool of water below.
In the second interlude, about halfway through the song, Haines comes to the rescue of the protagonist, bringing them out of the rabbit hole and into the light. She sings to them, “whatever you do, either way we’re gonna love you” over a delicate piano melody that previews her vocals at the end of the song. It is an emotional moment that builds to the climax of the song in which an acoustic guitar joins Haines’ voice as she sings, “come back to yourself from the battle.” Suddenly, electric guitars and drums burst in as if they bulldozed through a wall. This feels like the point in the movie where the protagonist runs and jumps in the hero’s arms for a hug. Haines closes out the song with soft ooh-ooh-ooh’s as the guitars march beside her in solidarity. It is so moving, I can’t get through a listen without tearing up.
This song is so epic that it might be better suited to close the album instead of open it. To open with it is like setting off a bomb and then just deciding to keep recording. It’s certainly a tough act to follow, and the album never quite makes it back up to this peak. But, even if you removed “Doomscroller” entirely, you would still have a great Metric album, with eight other solid songs.
In the rest of the album, we see more evidence that Metric has evolved—without straying too far from their roots. Haines’ characteristically zingy lyrics with singable, anthem-y choruses still make up the backbone of the album. “Kids in cold blood on the bullet train take me. I can kill with my eyes and I'm murdering,” she sings with a bite in “Oh Please.” And, in “I Will Never Settle,” one can easily envision a crowd of fans raising their fists as they sing, “we will never settle!”
In “All Comes Crashing,” we see another signature of Metric’s: playing with different sound textures. There are layers of hollow wooden sounds, synthesizers, drums, and electric guitars—to name a few. Weaving in and out of it all is a tasty electric guitar riff. All of these complex layers make for a beautiful contrast against Haines’ vocals. In the mixing of it all, there is always balance—they know when to add the right sounds and textures at the right time.
In the title track “Formentera” and in “Enemies of the Ocean,” we see the evolution of Metric’s sound. “Formentera” sounds unlike anything they have made before. The song opens with dramatic strings (not a usual component of their music) that feel like the pulling back of curtains to reveal a mysterious dream-like scene. The rest of the song utilizes synths that sound like they’re out of an 80s soap opera—a shift from their usual new-wave style of employment, but effective.
In “Enemies of the Ocean,” we see more epic arrangements like the ones found in “Doomscroller”. There are giant guitar riffs, strings, and heavy synths contrasted with Haines’ softly-sung verses that meander as if floating down a river. Next to “Doomscroller,” it’s the biggest moment on the album. Overall, in all of their songs on the album, we see a development into a bigger, fuller, more sophisticated sound than their scrappier beginnings.
The album fades out with “Paths in the Sky”. Lyrically, the song is a sort of goodbye but, musically, it doesn’t quite feel like a satisfying ending. It ends on a musing note, like getting caught up in a daydream. Which, I suppose, is appropriate because Formentera—named after a Balearic Island that the band discovered in a travel book—represents a daydream and, as Haines puts it, “creating an escape for yourself in your mind.”1
Formentera is the product of big dreams. It is what results when a band—now with eight albums under their belt—dares to dream beyond their prior limits. Though not every song on the album is dazzling, overall the album breaks new ground for the band. It makes me excited to see what their next evolution will look like.
Also available on Apple Music
Found Light - Laura Veirs
Singer/Songwriter
Laura Veirs’ Found Light is a revelation in more ways than one. It is the first album after her divorce from her former husband and producer2. “Light” is what she discovers in her newfound independence, which she reveals in lyrics throughout the album. “I pawned my wedding ring at the Silver Lining. I felt sad. I also felt a weight go flying,” she sings in “Ring Song.” Light is also what she brings to her listeners through lyrics that feel like poems and music that feels like gentle, mid-morning sunshine filtering down through the trees.
Her stylistic influences are diverse and include folk, indie rock, Americana, and pop. You can even hear traces of her punk days (in her band Rair Kx!) in “Seaside Haiku” and “Winter Windows.” In Found Light, she distills it all into a mostly mellow set of songs that are varied enough to keep the listener’s interest but cohesive enough to make for an easy listen.
There is a spaciousness to the way Veirs arranges her songs—she gives everything room to breathe. In “Can’t Help but Sing,” acoustic guitar takes a back seat to harmonized vocals—only stepping in with flourish at the end as the vocals fade into “oohs.” She is also intentional in giving songs space from each other and ordering them just right. One of the most beautiful tracks on the album, “Komorebi”—a sparkling instrumental number—is carefully placed to serve as one last breath before diving into the rocking “Winter Windows.” Everything she makes feels intentional without any sort of rigidity.
The album opens with “Autumn Song,” where guest vocalist Kate Stables echoes Veirs—encircling the listener. In the background, guitars tangle together like the swirl of falling leaves. A simple baseline adds a bit of warmth. Lyrically, it introduces us to the subject matter covered in the album. “I make a list, oh, of ways to be free, of ways to let go, of ways to be loved, the things I now know.” The rest of the songs on the album fall somewhere along this list.
Another highlight is “Naked Hymn.” It opens with a flute and finger-picked guitar, with soft saxophone improvisations that dance throughout the song—giving it a breezy sensuality. It evokes a Shakespearean scene on a grassy, countryside hill where the singer delivers her soliloquy—presumably about a lover. It is bound together by her brilliant refrain, “touch has a memory”.
Veirs excels at making her songs sound exactly like their subjects. In “Eucalyptus” (in which she sings about going on a morning run), the rhythm feels like the pattering of running feet. In “Signal,” she uses electronic tones that sound like transmissions into space. “Sending you a signal, though I don’t know where you are,” she sings over them. In “New Arms,” Veirs sings, “I need to forget this chainmail in the lake and make room for new arms to surround me,” in unison with a waltzing melody. The words, “surround me” are repeated with reverberation and the accompaniment of backup vocalists, making the listener feel surrounded.
The closing track, “Winter Windows” is my favorite. It’s the biggest song on the album and one of the few instances where electric guitar is used (and it’s given the space to shred a little). Lyrically, it brings us to the revelation Veirs finds in her newfound freedom. “I used to watch them watch you light up every room. Now it’s up to me. The lighting I can do.” Laura Veirs finds light on the other side of divorce, and the light that she found was herself. It is a powerful moment of revelation and one that will make you want to rock out with her in celebration.
I think everyone reading will love this album—unless you don’t like chill, beautiful music. In which case, it’s not for you. But for those who listen, you will be treated to 46 minutes of blissful musings from a woman who has stepped into her own power and found her light.
Also available on Apple Music, bandcamp
Special feature: reader recommendation
The Jacket - Widowspeak
Alternative
This is the second iteration of a (hopefully) recurring feature. At the end of each issue I like to ask for listener recommendations, and one such recommendation comes from my friend Patrick of Portland, OR: The Jacket from the band Widowspeak. This album was totally under my radar. It’s impossible to find and listen to everything, which is why I love getting recommendations from you all. And, let me tell you, I’m glad Patrick brought this album to my attention because it’s just so lovely.
The Jacket started as a concept album about a chain-stitcher working in the satin district who joins a band, falls in love with a bandmate, and enjoys the touring life until things start to fall apart.3 The concept was ultimately simplified, but keep an ear out for lyrics like, “stitches in satin, making plans.” The overall effect is a moody, dreamy blend of indie rock and pop. Their low-key style features hummable baselines, brushed drumming, and guitar licks reminiscent of early 2000s indie rock. I listened to this album while I was camping in the forest, laying in a hammock, staring up at the sky and it was the perfect accompaniment.
Let’s hear what Patrick has to say about it.
How did you hear about this album, Patrick?
Patrick: I've been following Widowspeak since their melancholic song "Plum" (from the 2020 album of the same name) caught my ears in a random Spotify playlist I was listening to—thank you algorithm! However, I didn't actually know a new album was on its way until The Jacket popped up on a Friday list of new albums.
What do you love about it?
Patrick: I love how Widowspeak uses straightforward arrangements where each instrument is clearly heard, yet together forms a really specific nostalgic atmosphere for me. I imagine walking with friends around Capitol Hill in Seattle on a warm summer evening, ducking into a venue from a bygone day like the old Comet Tavern and realizing that the opener who you had never heard of actually deserves to headline—basically the type of day where you only realize it was perfect after it's already over with.
What’s your favorite track on the album?
Patrick: The title song "The Jacket." Everything in the track is so subdued until the lead guitar gets a bit crunchy around 3 minutes in—then the song really starts to open up, and my head bobs along with the toe tapping that's been there since the beginning of the track. The drums have an obvious similarity to a train to me, and that makes me want to drive through the desert at sunset, watching as a locomotive parallels the highway for a while, before winding away into some distant canyon.
Well put, Patrick. Thank you so much for sharing!
Also available on Apple Music, bandcamp
Do you have an album recommendation for me? Let me know in the comments.
Pressed for Time!
Raving Dahlia EP - Sevdaliza
Electronic
Sevdaliza, the Iranian-Dutch singer-songwriter-producer (among other hyphenates), brings her dark—sometimes spooky—brand of electronic music to the tightly-focused Raving Dahlia EP. The centerpiece to her music is her decadent voice. Sevdaliza often lingers at the bottom of her mezzo vocal range like a snake hiding under rocks waiting to strike. “High Alone” is the star of the EP (and the single that made me want to listen to more). Its dark seductiveness gives “Killing Eve” vibes. “I wanna go alone with you even though I’ll die alone,” she sings. There are some lighter moments like the dance-club-ready, “Everything,” but even its refrain is “get me out of here.” Raving Dahlia is like chocolate cake—rich and delicious from start to finish.
Also available on Apple Music, bandcamp
10 more albums I listened to
MUNA (S/T) (Alternative)
Baby - Petrol Girls (Rock)
Home, before and after - Regina Spektor (Alternative)
Give Or Take - GIVĒON (R&B/Soul)
Giant Palm - Naima Bock (Alternative)
Medicine Singers (S/T) (Alternative)
Excess - Automatic (Indie Rock)
Interpret It Well - Ches Smith (Instrumental Jazz)
ONONOS (S/T) (Alternative)
Duct Tape & Shivering Crows - These Arms Are Snakes (Hard Rock)
Last Night In The Bittersweet - Paolo Nutini (Pop)
The Playlist!
These are my favorite songs off of each new album I listened to this year listed in chronological order of listening. The songs from the albums in this issue are at the end of the playlist. It’s updated with every issue.
365 Albums in 2022 - Apple Music playlist
365 Albums in 2022 - Spotify playlist
Thanks for reading! In the next issue, I have some thoughts to share about Lizzo’s new album, but there are few other recommendations I think you’ll enjoy. I’m getting a little backed-up in getting these issues out—hopefully it will be ready next week (someone hold me to it!). If you haven’t already, make sure you subscribe so you don’t miss it.
What have you been listening to lately? Anything good? Let me know in the comments.
I loved both Formentera and Found Light. Interesting that “doomscrolling “ figures in both of them. They’re antidotes to that doomy angst, mainly because of the calming voices of Emily and Laura. So comforting, to use your word, that such beautiful art emerged from the chaos of the past 2 years. Thanks for the excellent recommendations. I’ll be listening to these again.