Review Summary: I've been here before; I'll be here again.
I had been trying to get her to listen to The Swell Season for years when my girlfriend called me excitedly to tell me that she had discovered something amazing. Apparently they had watched “Once,” in her film class and she had fallen in love with Hansard’s emotive guitar playing and lyricism. My response was a mixture of “I’m glad you like him so much!” and “I told you so.”
When I played
The Swell Season for the first time since our break-up, I expected to be reminded of her in all her devastating glory. I think I wanted to be. Instead, I was was thrown backwards through all the cold winter mornings and dark summer nights when I had gone through the same devastation years before.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. For even in the happiest time of one’s life,
The Swell Season can serve as a sobering reminder of how it feels to fall out of love. As far removed from the feeling of heartbreak that you can be, you’ll be pulled straight back in. And if you’re already experiencing it? Pure catharsis.
Fans of their film “Once” will find a familiar tune in the Academy-Award winning song “Falling Slowly.” This and few other cuts here that hail from the musical (even though this was released first, in some paradox of time) are expanded upon and deepened with an emphasis on stringed instruments to help even out Irglova’s piano and Hansard’s percussive acoustic guitar.
This isn’t to say that these numbers are the main focus of the album either. Both “Falling Slowly” and the deceptively upbeat “When Your Mind’s Made Up” are ridiculously good songs, but are matched and even bettered by the cavernous melancholy of “Drown Out.” If one doesn’t believe what devastation this album can have on the listener, all one needs to do is listen to the chorus. As the oppressive strings try desperately to prop up Hansard and Irglova, all they can do is moan:
“Cry alone
Die alone
Pray alone
Stay alone”
The only moment on the album that might show up the utter sorrow of this song is when Marketa takes center stage on “Alone Apart.” With anguished vocals and a suffocating atmosphere, the closer is filled with indistinguishable vocalizations and radio static in the background.
The album is not without its weaker moments however. Now it’s no more than a weak link in the chain, but for years I would simply skip the leaden “Lies.” It’s one of the simplest tracks on the album, yet upon repeated listens it’s likely to worm its way into your heart just like the rest. Similarly, “This Low” failed to initially impress, but now I understand it as the perfect way to climatize the audience to its style both musically and lyrically. But mostly, it’s just a lovely song. The two in a way share a bond with each other musically, similar to the way that “Leave” serves as a bitter mirror image of the track “Sleeping.” Both deal directly with the downfall of a once prosperous relationship, but where “Sleeping” quietly ponders about what it means to move on, “Leave” crescendos into what can only be described as the music equivalent of an anxiety attack. Hansard pulverizes his guitar as he screams incoherently, battling the strings in a race to puncture the listener’s heart.
It’s unfair to say that this, or any other song on the album is the most devastating track, however. Each affects the listener in a different way, and I am loath to neglect mentioning the title track, which might have triggered one of my first experiences of pure melancholy as a child. The song seems to embody the ebb and flow of nature; trees blossom, fields scorch, leaves fall, and lakes freeze over. So profound and universal is the piece that it’s impossible to even know what season the piece is about.
But the strongest cut from the album is “The Moon.” Perhaps the most unexceptional song on here musically, it serves as an emotionally devastating climax that grounds the album even further. Every step of the song captivates my attention. It’s not something I can listen to in the background, but if I focus on it I’m trapped. In my eyes, it’s one of the greatest songs ever written, and yet I don’t listen to it out of fear. I don’t like the way I feel when I hear it, but it’s so important to feel that way now and again.
Actually, what’s most important about
The Swell Season is that it reminds you of a simple fact that’s so easy to forget. You’ve been here before. And no matter what happens and no matter what plans you make and all that you do to prevent it, you will be here again. And that’s okay. Because we all have. These beautiful, wonderful, blessed musicians have, too.
This album is difficult. It’s beautiful. It’s devastating. It’s bittersweet. And just like heartbreak, no matter how painful it can be, in the end you’ll come out of it better than you were before.
